#The only time I get to play billiards is on rare occasions

[clvmtines]

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you !  has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine. 

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park. 

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries. 

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears. 

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold. 

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive. 

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh. 

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people. 

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself. 

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho 

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks. 

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer 

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

[aion-rsa]

Guilty Gear: 15 Most Powerful Characters

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Guilty Gear has one of the more ridiculous storylines in fighting games. A beautiful-looking series with a fantastic cast of heroes and villains, the sci-fi anime aesthetic lends itself to some wacky concepts.

The broad strokes of the series aren’t all that bizarre, as it tells a pretty basic story overall. In a world where magic was discovered, three scientists accidentally unleashed a new type of species that led to a lengthy war between these creatures (Gears) and humanity. One scientist became a genocidal monster, one a grizzled anti-hero, and another a mysterious wildcard watching over everything. Eventually, the war ended and peace reigned, but the possibility of the war reigniting is a constant threat.

That’s not too out there on its own. Except the story also features a large vigilante doctor who wears a paper bag to hide his identity as a crazed serial killer. There’s a ninja who gets elected President of the United States, only to later figure out it would be easier to just start his own country. There’s a comatose boy in a weaponized bed whose personality is a mix between Freddy Krueger and Mandark from Dexter’s Lab. There’s a yoyo-wielding bounty hunter, a time-traveling Axl Rose knockoff, a dandy vampire, an assassin who uses reality-bending billiards as a fighting style, and so on.

Shit gets weird.

With Guilty Gear Strive finally out on store shelves, giving us the long-awaited final battle between Sol Badguy and That Man, it’s time to take a look at the most powerful beings in the Guilty Gear universe. One character I’m leaving off the list is Leopaldon from Guilty Gear Isuka. Not only is the game not canon, but even WHAT Leopaldon is (a dog and a wizard piloting a yeti?) isn’t well-explained. But if you want Leopaldon, he’s definitely on our official ranking of all the characters in the series.

Anyway, here the most powerful characters in Guilty Gear:

15. IZUNA

Izuna, a hero introduced in Guilty Gear 2, is a bit on the mysterious side, but there’s enough information to make it apparent that he’s someone to take serious. Not only is he over 500 years old, but he resides in the Backyard, an environment so uninhabitable that most others would be crushed by its magical atmosphere. He’s skilled as a swordsman, and his teleportation abilities are said to be equal to the strength of several hundred mages combined.

It’s presumed that Izuna didn’t show up in Guilty Gear Xrd because Ariels saw him as such a threat to her plans that she sealed him away and kept him out of play before her schemes could really kick into gear. That’s quite the compliment, in a roundabout way.

14. RAVEN

Raven is all about experience and durability. He simply can’t die, can contort himself, and is unable to feel pain. Even his Instant Kill sees him summon energy that engulf him and his opponent, which turns his enemy to dust while he simply lives to fight another day. He also has control over spatial magic in a way that makes Faust look like a novice. He’s absolutely a force to be reckoned with no matter what character he’s up against.

Still, resilience can only get you so far. When you get down to it, he’s comparable to someone like Deadpool or Wolverine, albeit with an even stronger healing factor and some magic bells and whistles. He may live to fight again, but he can still be overwhelmed and defeated with the right strategy. Guys like Slayer and Dizzy might not be able to completely annihilate him, but they can presumably contain him.

13. THE VALENTINE SERIES

The initial Valentine was the final boss in Guilty Gear 2 and Ramlethal Valentine was the boss in Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign-. They, along with Elphelt Valentine and Jack-O Valentine, are treated as crucial parts of the series.

Yet, they just…never really do anything that justifies ranking them higher on this list. Plus I have to lump them together because it’s hard to really compare them when they can apparently shut off each other’s powers.

Then again, I guess the original Valentine is the alpha of the group as she could upgrade her form a couple times over for the sake of final boss battles. Not that it did her any good.

12. I-NO

I-No is a tough one to figure out. Guilty Gear XX introduces her as a major threat, and a mysterious one at that. Her origin isn’t explored at first, and by the time the series explains what the hell she is (some kind of being the universe created out of everyone’s wishes for a better tomorrow?), it doesn’t really give her much context as a combatant. That said, “Manipulating probability” is one of her powers, making her pretty damn formidable when combined with her almost unlimited battle experience and toughness.

Read more

Games

Guilty Gear: Ranking All the Characters

By Gavin Jasper

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Mortal Kombat: 15 Most Powerful Characters

By Gavin Jasper

Even though she’s treated as the boss character in Guilty Gear XX and spends the story messing with everyone, Guilty Gear XX Accent Core lets the rest of the cast catch up to her. Most of her endings involve her being defeated and even killed by those she just beat in-game. For instance, I-No defeats Baiken in-game but then Baiken just gets back up and murders her.

11. BAIKEN AND ANJI MITO

These two are so intertwined and comparable that they’ll have to share a spot. As I already mentioned, they both own I-No no matter who wins the in-game battle, which I’m going to take as a sign that they’re simply superior to her on the battlefield. Both are part of the series’ interesting subplot where people of Japanese descent are both incredibly rare, but also teeming with energy. Unlike May, these two have actually tapped into their genetic potential.

But it has its limits. Baiken has been demolished by Justice in the past, and her attempts to get revenge on That Man only ended in frustration when she couldn’t land a single hit. And he wasn’t even fighting back!

10. KLIFF UNDERSN

Poor Kliff is one of those old school fighting game characters who dies in his own ending, therefore dying in canon. Not that it’s surprising, considering he’s entering a fighting tournament in his late 80s. Still, Kliff is a legend and made a name for himself during much of the war against Justice. Sure, he was taken off the board before we could see how well he’d measure up to some of the younger warriors, but according to canon, Kliff survived at least 16 encounters with Justice.

He couldn’t seal the deal, but surviving against Justice that many times is too impressive not to give him a spot on this list. It’s not like Justice is the kind to spare a defeated foe out of respect. Kliff had to earn his survival time and time again.

9. KY KISKE

Ky Kiske has spent the entire series getting the short straw when compared to his rival and co-protagonist Sol. As Sol’s power keep creeping upwards and making him more and more OP with each new installment, Ky is just off to the side, feeling sorry for himself. He is still more than capable, but on paper, he just can’t hang with the likes of Sol and the other heavy hitters.

The epilogue for Guilty Gear Xrd suddenly shone a new light on Ky, though. Sol fought alongside Ky during the Crusades and saw what he was capable of. It looked nothing like the man he dueled with on multiple occasions across their adventures. Ky then admitted the truth: he had been holding back all this time because, while he may want to defeat Sol, he doesn’t want to kill him and those are two very different fighting strategies for him. Ky may not be some kind of nuclear option in battle, but if he truly wanted to, he could kill you 10 times before you hit the ground.

8. SLAYER

From his first appearance, Slayer made his mark as the retired assassin who was simply too strong for this shit. He’s more of an interested onlooker than a major player and usually only gets involved for the sake of his own amusement. With his otherworldly biology and centuries of experience, Slayer is rarely shown to be in any real peril. Even in defeat, he lies awake and bored, suggesting that he lost only because he allowed it.

It takes a while, but we do eventually get to see some measure of his potential. He’s casual about danger, but there are threats out there that could at the very least make him break a sweat. That’s basically the rest of this list.

7. BEDMAN

Bedman spends the first half of Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- making his way through the rest of the roster. Depicted as an enigmatic being who fights his enemies both physically and mentally (and is near unstoppable on both fronts), Bedman not only overpowers series regulars, but is able to take on multiple opponents at once while still making them look like the underdogs.

The moment that truly shows how dangerous Bedman is when he comes across Slayer. At first, we get the idea that it’s a stalemate and that Slayer may be up against someone worthy of his effort. Then, sometime later, we see Bedman standing triumphantly over Slayer, Millia, and Venom, who all lie at his feet. And after that, he still keeps going, taking out Faust and Chipp while forcing Johnny to escape. Dude is scary.

6. PRESIDENT GABRIEL

Gabriel showed up in Potemkin’s ending, and since then Arc System Works has been playing up how incredible he is while never, ever putting him in a game! It’s outright maddening. Make him a DLC character or something. We’ve been waiting decades!

Read more

Games

Mortal Kombat Characters Ranked

By Gavin Jasper

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50 Best Fighting Game Final Bosses from Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Tekken, and More

By Gavin Jasper

He’s a man Potemkin looks up to and confides in by the end of the first game. Then they introduce Slayer and tease tease this nigh-unbeatable immortal is Gabriel’s rival. It isn’t until Guilty Gear Xrd that it really becomes apparent how tough this guy is. After the story spent all this time building up Bedman, Gabriel completely clowns him like nobody’s business.

That’s what you get for killing that dog, you comatose asshole.

5. SOL BADGUY

Every now and then, fiction gives us a character so powerful that even trying to make them cease to exist does nothing. Blow up Darkseid with anti-matter, use magic to erase the Sentry, go back in time and destroy the MacGuffin that makes Apocalypse immortal, etc. They somehow just exist in spite of that. Sol is on that level. I-No once sent him back in time, had him kill his younger self, and Sol simply shrugged off the paradox. The dude is ridiculous.

Sol grows more powerful in each game and even then we’re told that he’s holding back. By the time the dust settles, he’ll probably be worthy of #1 post on the list, but right now, he’s just a high-ranking, angry fellow who’s important enough to be what the series’ bizarre title is named after.

4. JUSTICE

Despite being killed off in the first game, Justice is the constant source of dread in Guilty Gear’s story. Many of the games have revolved around the threat of Justice’s return, whether it’s getting her daughter to follow in her footsteps, cloning, or even resurrection. And yes, Justice is bad news because when she was active, she led a war against mankind that lasted 101 years. She only lost because she was sealed away.

After being released from her prison, Justice was eventually done in by Sol Badguy, the only Gear to predate her creation. It could be said that Sol took her out when she was weakened, but it could also be said that Sol was holding back.

Regardless, I’m going to rank Justice higher because of of her mental control over the entire Gear race, Sol excluded. Yeah, that’s a pretty major weapon to have in your back pocket, even if it doesn’t really come into play in a one-on-one fighting game. Sol was lucky to be in a situation where he could take her out before she could call in the reserves.

3. DIZZY

Dizzy makes me think of when someone is writing a Justice League story and has to come up with a reason for Superman to not be around, like he’s busy in space or off in another dimension. Dizzy isn’t the protagonist of Guilty Gear, but she is the daughter of two of the most powerful characters, and is mainly held back by plot contrivance and her attempts at pacifism. If she wanted to, she could wipe the floor with practically anyone, and there’s even an alternate reality (one where Ky died during the Crusades) that shows her embracing her potential and leading the Gears to victory against humanity.

Her so-called “Instant Kill” in Guilty Gear Xrd paints the best picture. Dizzy reluctantly fires a projectile that misses its mark, but leaves a horrifying mushroom cloud in the distance. Her freaked out opponents can only survey the damage, slowly turn to her, and surrender. Again, that’s what she’s capable of when holding back.

2. ASUKA R. KREUZ/THAT MAN

I can’t think of a more ambitious concept for a fighting game character than That Man. He’s alluded to in Sol Badguy’s ending in the first Guilty Gear game, making you imagine he’ll be the final boss of the next game or maybe the one after that. Instead, he makes mysterious appearances in the Guilty Gear X games. We never get a good look at him, but we see that he’s capable of easily slapping aside anyone who gets in his way. Then he pops up in Guilty Gear 2, including in a boss battle where Dragon Install Sol Badguy can’t even dent him. The Guilty Gear Xrd series gives him a little more dimension, finally revealing his true face and name.

Now it’s time for Guilty Gear Strive where maybe, just maybe, That Man will be DLC down the line. Maybe. Since the beginning, the series has been building to a climactic battle between Sol Badguy and Asuka R. Kreuz. As it is right now, That Man has proved to be higher on the food chain than his old scientist colleague, but that kind of uphill battle is expected.

1. ARIELS

Guilty Gear 2 and Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- built up “Mother,” the force behind the Valentines and the one signing Bedman’s checks. At the end of -Sign-, we found out that the big mastermind is…a lady Pope possessed by a divine force. Sure, why not. Then in the next game, we got to see her go from putting on a professional and benevolent face for the public to going on a killing spree, painting her face like a juggalo, and ranting about how humanity is redundant and needs to be done away with.

Once again, Ariels would have made for a kickass final boss in Guilty Gear Xrd Revelator, but she remained part of story mode only. She was eventually taken down, but it took Sol Badguy, Ky Kiske, Sin Kiske, and That Man teaming up to do it. But as revealed in Guilty Gear Strive, she’s still alive!

What is your ranking of the most powerful Guilty Gear fighters? Let us know in the comments!

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[madrasbook]

Once Upon a City: Amusing Anecdotes about Madras

Madras that is Chennai celebrates its birthday on August 22, possibly on presumption, going by what S. Muthiah, the city’s finest chronicler who left a treasure of information on the city, records in Madras Rediscovered, which has run eight editions starting from 1981. A deed was signed on behalf of John Company by Francis Day and Andrew Cogan with the local Nayak rulers in Wandiwash and Poonamalle, Venkatappa and his brother Aiyappa, and that deed is dated as July 22, 1639.

That grant is dated July 22, 1639, but since Day reached Madraspatam – the name mentioned in the grant – only on July 27th, the chances are that ‘July’ is an error and August 22, 1639, is more likely the date the East India Company acquired the land to found their settlement.

The British men were given a small strip of land (which Muthiah terms “no man’s sand”) on lease on which they established a “trading post that was in effect a warehouse-cum-residence with some fortification,” to quote Muthiah.

And the land was chosen in Madras hyped up on a lie by Francis Day that cotton cheap in Madras as Day claimed in his recommendation to his superior, Andrew Cogan. And the city—which did have a notorious scale of gossip and scandals later on due to colourful men decorating the East India Company’s services or their agents, friends, or just men from England—was ostensibly founded on a famous gossip:

Day’s own explanation for choosing this barren, sandy site was that its hinterland offered “excellent long Cloath and better cheape by 20 per cent than anywhere else”! A noted gossip of the time, however, had it that the choice was determined by Day having a mistress in Portuguese San Thomé; the nearby settlement-to-be would ensure “their Interviews might be the more frequent and uninterrupted”! Whether this was indeed the case is a matter for conjecture, but that there was a mistress appears to have been gossip with some substance; a friend and successor to the charge of Madras, Henry Greenhill, is reported as having succeeded to the willing gentlewoman!

Madras Rediscovered is not a boring collection of facts and details to construct the past of Madras but a charming text to be read to understand how a small trading post evolved to become the metropolis of modern times, told in a very conversational, yet sophisticated and flowing language.

Where you actually give yourself to giggles, laughs, disbelief, and even tears are the anecdotes that punctuate the 20 chapters, which Muthiah chooses to name Once Upon a City. The first one begins thus:

I had promised to show him Robert Clive’s watering-holes in and around Madras. Little did I realise he’d turn up at my house in the best Clive manner, complete with coach and escort. His outrider that morning roared up on an iron steed, quickly dismounted at my gate and threw a smart salute. Moments later the carriage chugged up behind the police inspector and ensconced in the auto-rickshaw was a short, tubby, safari-suited Stanley Clives peering owlishly through heavy glasses to make sure he’d got right an address no Clive had ever known. Once sure, he broke into a broad, most unClive-like grin and proceeded to explain the comedy of errors that had earned him a police escort and which had raised in his esteem more than a notch the Madras police force whose sense of duty encompassed helping harassed strangers.

So a Clive (he also tells how the Clive became Clives) descendent arrived to meet Muthiah in an autorickshaw escorted by a police vehicle. What a setting! That engaging style, with wit and humour, is what you could expect to be treated to in these anecdotes. The main narrative about Madras is full of flourishing text that draws you in, arrests your senses, and piles up your curiosity.

You better read up on how the Survey of India had its roots in Madras. There are stories on mysterious murder, heads over heels love that would make would make “true love an eternal bestseller”, and the forgotten merchantmen (among whom my favourite is Coja Petrus Uscan, the Armenian merchant who enabled the connect between Mambalam and St. Thomas Mount through the Marmalong Bridge [now Maraimalai Adigal Palam]).

Muthiah delves into the Cooum (which once was a bather’s delight, now a polluted nightmare), the French dalliance with Madras that fell through only because of a poorly designed treaty, and life of Annie Besant and how printing came to Madras in the following anecdotes.

The stories of Parry & Company and Crompton & Company, two of the affluent British firms of Madras in their heyday, the founding of Indian Bank, Indo-Saracenic architecture, Edward Winter who was Day’s contemporary, film making in Madras and the city’s metamorphosis are captured in other anecdotes.

I have my favourites though in those Once Upon a City anecdotes—about The Hindu, on my lifeline poet Bharathi and on mathematical genius S. Ramanujan, and the Chepauk cricket ground.

The bewitching write on Chepauk first:

To me – and to most enthusiasts of the game as played in another, more leisurely, perhaps, even more gracious, age – cricket in Madras will for ever be associated with Chepauk’s lovely sward of lush springy turf tended with infinite patience and care to billiard table smoothness by Munuswamy of old, the entire emerald oval surrounded by towering cassias and acacias, some a century old, shedding their cool shade over low, tin-roofed stands. From these stands, which did nothing to mar the English county cricket ground atmosphere of Chepauk, you could watch in stretch-legged comfort Johnstone and Ward and Nailer, Gopalan and Ram Singh and Rangachari do epic battle against each other in the annual Pongal Week ‘Tests’, the Presidency Match that pitted European versus Indian in many a famous contest, then team up together to do yeoman duty for Madras against the rest of India in the Ranji Trophy matches of the 1930s and 1940s. [my emphasis]

Once Muthiah bowls you over, you go on to finish the story in double quick time and keep going back to it for inspiration, again and again. Talking of Pongal tests, which at one time the Chepauk was famous for, and we, the young then, often termed Indian sloppiness on the field as buttery fingers (after a generous scoop of Sakkarai Pongal with hands)!

The Hindu is an icon of Madras, always holding a place in the city’s ethos with an unparalleled history, a rare case of a newspaper intertwined with a city’s culture. Muthiah wrote Madras Miscellany for years in this newspaper without a break! Except once when his home was flooded in 2015 and when he finally had to give up due to his uncooperating health. Those stories were served on Monday morning with unfailing regularity, with this chronicler’s gaze often deep and amusing. But let’s get back to The Hindu itself, in Muthiah’s words:

“You might like The Hindu or you may not,” starts this chronicler, who should have collected copious paper cuttings of this newspaper in to his journals. And goes on to say, albeit grounded in the very tradition of the land:

… the paper has always reminded me of a one-time neighbour abroad. A middle-aged wisp of a woman in a nine-yard saree, chattering away in impeccable but strongly accented English, she organised the neighbourhood’s best coffee parties and bridge sessions in the mornings, drove herself through snarled traffic for sareed tennis in the afternoons, and with supreme aplomb threw boisterously successful cocktail parties or staid sit-down dinners, replete with her best silver and traditional vegetarian cuisine, in the evenings. Yet she remained true to Olde Madras in all those years, in dress and makeup, in habits and customs, above all in the practice of rituals of faith and worship. She was, bless her daunting soul, the finest example I knew of that rather overpowering but slowly vanishing personality, the Modern Orthodox Madras Conservative. And The Hindu has tended to be that over the years.

Only he could style The Hindu as “A middle-aged wisp of a woman in a nine-yard saree.” And what follows about the newspaper’s history is nothing short of fabulous. And he told me once that he was so inspired by the coverage of Lakshmikanthan murder case in the newspaper.

The mathematical genius of Ramanujan is not what Muthiah dwells upon but his life struggle and his work. Not so much with linguistic flourish though. On occasion, your eyes moisten while reading it because of the way the story is told. Combined in this anecdote is also the story about S. Chandrasekhar, the astrophysicist who won the Nobel in physics, long after it was due though. Maybe the future generations would get some inkling of this outstanding scientist from Muthiah’s account. I for one didn’t know much about this tall figure in such detail before reading it here.

Bharathiar is a universal poet. And there would be a few who wouldn’t have heard about him in the Tamil land. And to immerse yourself into his works gives not only inspiration but also a charge that would light up your life, for ever. Muthiah writes:

During the two years that he was a subeditor with the Swadesamitran, Bharati not only was trained as a journalist by Subramania Aiyer but also acquired his fire. The bouquet of heady wine made Bharati want to burst into patriotic verbal extravagance.

Not much about Bharathi’s fiery poetry finds mention but more of his journalistic career and life forms Muthiah’s focus. He says:

Bharati, in exile and deprived of a journalistic career, undoubtedly turned softer. The same thing had happened to VOC, who had come out of jail a crushed man, and, earlier, Subramania Aiyer, who had been shattered by the very threat of imprisonment. Aurobindo Ghosh, a fellow exile in Pondicherry, turned to spiritualism and V V S Aiyar, another fiery revolutionary in exile, turned to the world of letters, writing the first Tamil short story in 1917, Kulathangarai Arasamaram, after an initial spell of training gunmen. In this atmosphere of broken dreams and literary timewhiling, Bharati attempted to retain his interest in politics by writing sedate letters to the editors of Madras journals. As his prose became less fiery, his verse became more lyrical. He became the supreme poet. He also gave up his rural indifference to appearance and opted for a buttoned-up frock coat, loose turban to hide his baldness, and a pampered moustache to go with his clean shave.

Muthiah weaves into Bharathiar’s life as a careful observer, picking up the story in its magnificent simplicity, and this was so thrilling to read, of his meeting with C.R. Srinivasan, manager of Swadesamitran, when Bharathi rejoined the newspaper:

They introduced themselves. Srinivasan later recalled: “The Bharati I saw that day is indelibly imprinted on my mind’s eye. Middling height. Thin build. Shining, light brown complexion. Layer after layer of a turban wound round the head. A broad forehead. A dot of kum kum of a quarter anna size in its middle. Thick brows that stood guard over the roving eyes. The upturned nose highlighting the sunken cheeks. Though an aggressive moustache hid the upper lip, the lower lip revealed a listless life. A shirt without buttons to cover the body and an alpaca black coat over it. That too torn while jumping from the cart. He sat on the chair. Tongue-tied, the eyes rolled around, sizing everything. They alighted on me also, moving up and down. Rebellious eyes; sorrowful eyes; eyes that exuded peace; eyes that captivated. They stole my heart.”

The greatness of Bharathiar told in succulent text, captivating to read. Who says Muthiah has left us? His text speaks to us and the city’s now popular historian, Sriram V, has kept alive his memoirs of the city by covering many of the sites, especially favouring North Madras, described in the book in his heritage walks.

If working with these two men of letters and history isn’t a blessing, what is?

[drneurotic]

SDRA2 - Hibiki Otonokoji X Male! Reader X Setsuka Chiebukuro

When you first met Setsuka Chiebukuro, you were immediately entranced by her. She already gave off such a mature and motherly aura just from interacting with you, and if that wasn’t enough, her looks definitely sold the deal, especially when you watched her play billiards on a few separate occasions. Hell, you even played a few games with her during your free time, and while you knew you had absolutely no chance of beating her, you were no slouch either, and so you both shared some fun times together during your involuntary stay on Utsuroshima. She had taken a real shine to you, and as time passed, you fell madly in love with her. She was like an ideal housewife in your eyes…

...okay, so maybe that was a bit too much, saying that you were madly in love with her and that she seemed like an ideal housewife, but granted, you had a serious crush on her.

However, she wasn’t the only girl you had your eye on; the Otonokoji twins had also taken a real shine to you, especially since they were the famous duo known as Melody Rhythm. Their music always managed to take a shine to not only their fans (including yourself, but you were too embarrassed to say it out loud), but the day itself as well. Hibiki, the main vocalist of the two, always seemed cheerful and jovial around the group, and while she may have been demanding at times (especially around her sister), you always knew that deep down, she had a good heart and the potential to grow and shine even brighter than ever before. Thus, you had begun to develop a crush on her as well, since she and Setsuka seemed to get along really well.

And then there was her twin sister, Kanade. The guitarist of the duo who always seemed somewhat timid and stuttered from time to time, especially around her sister. Even with all the torment she received from her twin sister, she seemed like a good-natured and kind-hearted individual...regarding first impressions, that is.

During the last two class trials, each of which went over the deaths of Yuri and Kokoro, you couldn’t help but sense that something was off about Kanade when you realized what she was truly capable of in terms of intellect. And the way she was able to discern how Kokoro’s murder went down, along with the dying message she had left behind...that left you with an important question lingering in your head.

Just who on earth was she beneath that shy, timid exterior?

You had given it some thought, but you eventually dismissed it as your own paranoia for the time being.

However, that didn’t mean you would dismiss it completely. You kept it in mind in case something came up.

When you saw how she reacted to the motive Mikado had given everyone, you had grown suspicious.

When you saw how she reacted to Hibiki wanting to stay with Setsuka instead of Kanade, that suspicion grew even more.

And by a miraculous stroke of luck, when you woke up early and saw Kanade drugging Iroha and Sora’s tea, that solidified your theory.

Kanade was a fucked up person on the inside, even before she arrived at Utsuroshima. And there was a good chance she was planning on murdering someone. Maybe even a terrifying chance that she was planning on murdering Setsuka.

At that moment of shock and fear, you knew what you had to do.

Later on, you found yourself standing close by, hiding within the shadows near the pool with two anesthetic-filled syringes in your hands while you observed the scene with a determined expression. One syringe was filled with enough anesthetic to knock out one long enough for you to do what you had to do, and the other…

...it didn’t really matter. You knew you would die for what you were about to do, but it was for the best. Besides, you would deliberately leave something behind for the rest of the group to find, and it would point to you.

That aside…

...So that was Kanade’s plan, for her and Hibiki to stab Setsuka at the same time and then screw over everyone else by making it near impossible to determine who the culprit was, when in reality, both of them were the culprit.

That bitch...too bad for her it wouldn’t happen at all.

You snuck up behind them, your footsteps quiet since you had played enough video games to know how stealth worked to some extent.

“3…” Kanade began, with Hibiki continuing, “2…” A second of silence, “1…” They brandished their knives as you held your breath.

And then there was a silent sound of a syringe being jabbed into skin, and both twins were on the ground, out cold. Hibiki and Setsuka would wake up some time later, but Kanade?

Never again.

With your objective complete, you then immediately got to work.

...

“The culprit of this case, the one who killed Kanade Otonokoji...was none other than you! Y/N L/N, the Ultimate Gamer!”

Sora’s declaration rang throughout the trial room as all eyes were on you. No one had suspected you were the culprit, but remember that piece of evidence you had deliberately left behind? That was a small strip of fabric from a part of your clothing, and it was that single piece of evidence that solidified her accusation.

Hell, you didn’t even try to deny it. You just smiled defeatedly, yet peacefully and sighed, knowing this was the end of the road for you. “Welp, looks like this is Game Over...”

But in all honesty, it was worth it.

“W-Why…?” Hibiki began. Tears were running down her cheeks and ruining her makeup, but that was the least of her concerns. “Why did you do it…? I-I thought we were all friends…! Friends don’t abandon each other, much less kill each other, so why?!”

Setsuka wasn’t faring any better; the overshadow on her face said it all and tears streamed down her face. “Y-Y/N…y-you…?” She didn’t call you by the nickname she had given you since the start of the trip, which was honestly heart-wrenching.

“I had to...no, I needed to kill Kanade...before she could kill anyone else,” you replied, though your voice was slightly shaky. Shaking your head, you then glanced back up at Hibiki and Setsuka, whereas both of their expressions were pleading for the full explanation. Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and gave them the full story, the reason why you killed Kanade.

“I began to have my suspicions about Kanade...back when the class trial for Kokoro’s murder rolled around. It was her unusually keen intellect that threw me off. I didn’t really pay it any mind during the trial for Yuri’s murder because it was our first time, but...beneath that shy, timid exterior was something...a hidden strength of sorts that I couldn’t exactly discern.”

During your pause in your explanation, you had garnered everyone’s full, undivided attention as they all looked at you with conflicted expressions. Hibiki and Setsuka had wiped their tears and were staring at you with firm eyes.

“At first, I wasn’t too sure. Maybe it was just my paranoia that was getting to me because we were in the middle of a killing game. I eventually dismissed it as that, but…”

“...around the time when Mikado gave us that motive, I noticed how...unshaken Kanade remained. That alone...it disturbed me, just rubbed me the wrong way. At that moment, I knew something was off about her. And one morning...I saw her drugging Sora and Iroha’s tea. From that moment on, I had to keep an eye on her. And then...I saw her and Hibiki at the pool. Hibiki...you were practically hypnotized at the time from what I could tell, so of course you don’t remember...but that aside...”

Hibiki’s eyes were wide open as she realized why her head had felt somewhat empty before. She glanced down at her own hands, trembling slightly before looking back up at you.

“I knew what I had to do. Otherwise, if I did nothing and left Kanade to her own devices, I...I couldn’t live with myself. So I did something. And that something was undoing her plan of...brainwashing Hibiki into killing Setsuka and then trying to create a stalemate where Monocrow couldn’t determine if Hibiki or Kanade was the killer. If she had succeeded, then...”

You didn’t even need to finish that sentence. As everyone listened to your story, they slowly began to realize and put the pieces together. However, that didn’t lighten the mood whatsoever. Most of the group, if not everyone, looked at you with sympathy, even Syobai, which was a rare occurrence.

And to rub it in and further solidify your account, Monocrow was generous enough to display the other part of Hibiki’s motive video - the part she didn’t get to see until now. How the damned bird knew about what Kanade had done in the past was the least of your concerns. But as Hibiki slowly began to understand who was responsible for all the losses she had suffered since childhood, her mind slowly began to become clearer and clearer. She was now free from Kanade’s evil clutches.

However, that still didn’t make the situation any better.

Everyone seemed shaken up by this revelation. Hibiki and Setsuka...they were completely and utterly horrified by the revelation, their brains lurching and almost unable to believe that their friend had been a long time killer since childhood.

“Now you understand why I had to kill her,” you continued, casting your gaze towards them as they looked at you in the eyes. “Granted, I probably could’ve resolved this another way, but I couldn’t risk her living on. She was too dangerous...and yet...” You couldn’t find any words to finish that sentence as you hung your head, tears pricking at the corners of your own eyes. “I...I’m sorry, everyone…I’m so, so sorry...”

“Y-Y/N...don’t be...this wasn’t your fault…” Setsuka replied, albeit shakily as she was fighting to keep herself from losing it. “Don’t blame yourself for this…”

“N-No! I can’t accept this…! I won’t accept this…!” Hibiki sobbed, frantically shaking her head as she practically dashed towards you and hugged you as tight as she could. “I should’ve done something, I should’ve! You didn’t deserve this…! So why…?! Why did you have to do this for us?!”

“Because I loved you. Both of you.”

Though your response was immediate and short, it was genuine and heartfelt, and it caused both Setsuka and Hibiki to freeze in place. Hibiki slowly broke away from the hug as she and Setsuka stared at you, eyes even wider than before if it was even possible.

“W-What…?”

“Are you saying…?”

“What Kanade did back then and what she was planning on doing...those weren’t the only reasons I killed her,” you replied, looking them in the eyes this time.

“You loved them...but you couldn’t tell them,” Sora finished, somehow having known for a while. “You couldn’t let anything happen to them, so when you found out what Kanade was planning to do, it spurred you into action…”

You glanced at the silver haired amnesiac and nodded, knowing she had hit the nail right on the head. “Exactly. I loved both of them, I really did...but, I was honestly too shy to tell them that…so, I figured the least I could do was protect them by any means necessary. Seriously, though...I’m glad you found that strip of fabric. I knew someone would find it eventually, and so I just left it there...”

“W-Wait, so...you left that strip of fabric there on purpose?” Yoruko asked, her face turning a slight shade of blue.

“Yeah...while I was setting up the whole murder, I realized that it seemed too...perfect...I knew that if I actually got away with what I did, you all wouldn’t survive, especially Setsuka and Hibiki. I didn’t want that, so I decided I’d leave a little something behind…” you explained, holding up the part of your clothing that appeared to be somewhat torn, which solidified the truth.

“Y-Y/N...you left that behind to save everyone…” Shinji muttered, slamming his fist down on his podium a moment later. “Dammit…!”

“Wait...there’s something I want to ask…” Sora called out, turning your gaze back to her. “...are you a member of Void?”

“Sorry, but no. I doubt Kanade was either, but that aside...I think it’s better this way,” you replied, giving him a smile before casting your glance back towards Setsuka and Hibiki. “I understand if you can’t forgive me for this, but-”

You were immediately cut off when Setsuka and Hibiki both wrapped their arms around you, letting their tears fall and soak into your clothing as they sobbed uncontrollably.

“Dammit Y/N, of course we forgive you…!” Setsuka muttered, not wanting to let go as she held onto you as tight as she could. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for all this…!”

Hibiki was unable to say anything, only focusing on holding onto you and never letting go. Soon enough, some of the others eventually fell to tears. Syobai grit his teeth and looked away, taking a drag to ease the emotional pain that he could feel lingering all over the room. Mikado seemed indifferent and Teruya was in tears, though smiling a bit, glad that you were able to achieve your goal to some extent.

Sora and Yoruko had no choice but to let their tears fall while gripping their podiums, Yuki and Shinji were fighting back their tears as best as they could, Nikei couldn’t bear to look at the scene any longer and tipped his hat forward with a grim expression on his face, and Iroha had collapsed to her knees, sobbing as hot tears soaked into her sketchbook.

“Uggggggh, this is seriously giving me a headache. I have prepared a special punishment for the blackened of this case: Y/N L/N, the Ultimate Gamer!” Monocrow announced.

“Setsuka, Hibiki...I love you both...so very much…” you muttered, finally wrapping your arms around them with everything you had. “Take care of each other, okay?”

“*Sniff* We love you too, Y/N…so much...” Setsuka sniffled, Hibiki continuing a second later. “And we’ll protect each other, I promise…”

“Good…” Just hearing their words brought more tears to your eyes. “I’m glad to hear that…Nikei?”

Said journalist looked up at you in surprise for a moment. “You know what to do, right?”

Nikei stared at you for a moment before nodding, knowing exactly what you meant. On the off chance you wouldn’t survive, he would agree to look after Setsuka and Hibiki for you. It was that kind of trust that always kept love from dying...at least, in your perspective.

This was real life after all. You couldn’t respawn, nor turn back the time to undo your mistakes.

Every decision counted.

And honestly, you were okay with your final decision.

“Well then, shall we begin?” Monocrow began.

You were ready for it. You were so ready for it.

But…

“Punishment ti - eh?”

What you weren’t ready for was for both of your lovers to kiss you passionately on both of your cheeks. It caused you to blush a bright shade of red as they both looked at you lovingly, but sadly, knowing that was the only time they would ever get to kiss you. Hell, even Setsuka opened up her right eye just for this moment, which was honestly entrancing in your eyes.

At that moment, you felt like nothing, not even the execution Monocrow had planned for you, could break you. You got to confess to both of your crushes, and they returned your feelings in full. Nothing could make you happier.

And as Monocrow pulled you away to your execution, you kept your smile, knowing that they would still have each other.

____

Okay, so this has got to be my first post on Tumblr. Like, EVER. It’s been a while since I’ve posted any of my work, so I apologize if I didn’t exactly capture the characters’ personalities well.

Not to mention I made a request regarding the plot of this one shot to a select few others, so I’m still waiting on that.

[vios-rockland-corner]

I attempted to draw my Rockland OC Sasha playing pool...it did not go well.  I hate the face.  I tried to draw a hand close up to make up for the disgrace, but I don’t think it does.

Oh well, it’s part of my rule that I can’t talk about Sasha unless I draw her.  Helps me practice (but does not guarantee the picture will turn out great).

Well to be exact, I actually just wanted to talk about another character I’m trying to develop who could be a friend of Sasha.

I’m usually not fantastic at making side characters, but this one’s been forming in my head pretty well over the last few days.

I might make Sasha’s best friend a guy name Pierce (name pending- especially if a canon Rockland character pops up with the same name soon).  He’d be someone that she’s known for a long time, either from elementary or middle school.  I don’t know their ages yet, so I can’t say exactly how long.  They’d be super tight though and comfortable with each other.

I was trying to think of what Sasha does in her spare time.  At first I was thinking she had a gal pal who had a tendency to drag Sasha around as her designated driver so they could go to bars.  Yeah, Sasha would be a good designated driver, but that doesn’t sound as fun.  However, lots of bars and pubs will sometimes have pool tables, and I thought, “Well I could see Sasha going to pubs/bars if she’s with a friend and they have a little something more to do than just chat or scope out the scene!”  So that’s where Pierce comes in.

Pierce is a fantastic pool/billiards player.  Loves to play and he’s great at it.  Sasha also loves pool, and is decent (but not as good as Pierce).  So Sasha actually enjoys playing against Pierce to get better at the game, and Pierce enjoys having someone with the persistence to keep playing him.

Funny thing is though, while both Sasha and Pierce would be friendly and helpful if they were playing anybody else, when these two play together they talk a lot of smack and start roasting each other.   These two have just known each other for so long that it’s more out of good fun and competitiveness than mean spirit.

Pierce wins the vast majority of the time, but on a rare occasion Sasha has pulled a couple wins (which just encourages her more to keep playing).

They may make small bets like, “You’re paying my tab if you lose,” though Pierce tends to avoid as many monetary bets because he known he’d starting draining Sasha’s wallet ;)  (To which Sasha would retort, “Oh we’ll see about that.”)

Couple of reasons I like this setup:

1) I think it’s a decent pastime that both keeps them active in their own space as well as opens up opportunities to meet/interact with other characters in the world

2) Pubs and bars I’m sure would be great places to hear lots of odds stories and rumors...like about people going missing >:)

3) This is a little extra reassurance to keep Sasha safe, having the two of them together a lot in a public space

4) It’s a funny setup considering these two are NOT dating, but they often get mistaken as boyfriend and girlfriend.

At the moment, both characters are single.  They don’t even consider dating each other.  When people ask, they basically both give the same answer: “I’ve just known them for too long.”  They often treat each other more like siblings than potential partners.  They’re at this point where literally either could be hanging out at the other’s place, walking around in a towel after a shower looking for something, and they’d just treat it as casual (maybe a little joke thrown in though).  It’s not that either of them are gay or lesbian, they just feel like they’re life friends, not partners.  Although if either has to find a roommate to save money on living expenses, they’re each other’s first choice.

But of course, to the public eye it might not be easy to tell.  It has DEFINITELY been problematic at times for each to find a boyfriend or girlfriend unless they’re hanging out by themselves.  There’s been some problems before where the person they’re dating doesn’t like how cozy Sasha and Pierce can get with one another.  Sasha and Pierce are the same though where, “If I’m dating someone who won’t accept my friendship with my childhood buddy, then they’re not worth dating.”  

Pierce would also probably make a joke that if he married Sasha, “But then I couldn’t be the uncle who can spoil her kids rotten and let her know when she’s getting fat!”

If people they’re not fond of start to bother them too much when they’re playing a game of billiards, their usual strategy is to just start upping the smack they talk with one another (still only to each other) to the point where the other people just can’t get a word in and feel like they’re not even part of the scene.  If they don’t know that Sasha and Pierce aren’t dating, Sasha and Pierce will also use each other as an “emergency girlfriend/boyfriend” if there’s someone they want to deter (obviously doesn’t work if somehow the other party is already aware they’re just friends).

Pierce and Sasha will watch each other’s backs though.  If it looks like someone bad is getting too close, they’ll find a pool stick shoved in their way.  Pierce might actually even smack a dude’s hand “on accident” with a pool stick if he saw them trying to get a little too handsy with Sasha.  Otherwise, they just leave and head to the next bar/pub if a place isn’t working for them.  People can look, but no touch (unless it’s obvious Sasha or Pierce is interesting in whoever new person they’re talking to).

Pierce is probably pretty good looking.  I don’t know what he looks like yet though 0.o I didn’t try to draw him because honestly I’m even worse with male characters (both drawing and coming up with something original).  Pierce probably gets more attention than Sasha though in public.  Thinking he’s maybe 5′9″, but still debating on that.

Seeing as I changed talking about Pierce as a “would be” to an “is” here, pretty sure I’m going to try to keep him, but he could change in some ways.

Bonus:

I guess I could share HOW I came up with Pierce because it’s...kind of funny.  I was in the mall and walking through one of the clothing departments when I passed by the lingerie section.  I am a woman, but I still always feel a little weird walking through there.  Some stuff looks nice, but I think I’m just shy, haha.

I thought for a moment would Sasha be more of the type to shop for lingerie?  I’m thinking...I don’t think so, but what if she was there with someone else?  Somehow it turned into me thinking about a serious conversation Sasha was having with a friend, who was advising her to basically be careful and keep herself safe (long story regarding a backstory I’m not sure I’m keeping).  Anyways, the end of the conversation goes something like this:

Pierce: “Alright, now that I’ve done my sacred duty as your friend, advising you to stay out of trouble...take me to the lingerie section.”

Sasha: “Why do you ALWAYS want to go see women’s underwear when we go to the mall together?”

Pierce: “First of all: Don’t call it underwear, that’s so undignified.  Second: Because if I go there by myself, either I get girls giving me a disgusted look or little old ladies creeping on me saying I must be such a good boyfriend looking to buy something for my girl.”

Sasha: “Well yeah, pretty sure it IS weird for a dude to walk around there alone...”

Pierce: “Yeah but if I’m with you we just look like we’re shopping as a couple.”

To clarify, Pierce thinks lingerie is basically like a work of art.  He just likes looking, he doesn’t have a reason to buy it.  He doesn’t like if Sasha calls it “underwear.”  He’s well aware Sasha wears either boring underwear or just oversized shirts to bed, which he feels is a waste.  He often says she needs to treat herself and “upgrade.”

I imagined one time Sasha got annoyed and offered to “model” for him at her place with some lingerie she just bought, just to get his opinion.  She purposefully picked something ugly though (I keep thinking “pineapple lingerie” for some reason because that sounds pretty unsexy to me).  Pierce was appalled and said, “Burn it.”  Would also be another fun reason why Pierce could never really view Sasha as sexy XD

Sometimes Sasha’s not entirely sure if Pierce is more interested in women wearing lingerie...or really just the lingerie itself, haha.

I’m not sure if I’ll keep the lingerie fascination.  It’s funny, but debatable whether it’s just perverted or an odd “sophisticated taste.”  I could throw it out and keep the stuff I mentioned earlier.  It’s just weird that’s how I came up with this character.

[infernalyearning]

💗+ Adam Frankenstein ?

// @caffeinated-yearning / @mechaffeine

💚💭Adam/Legion Frankenstein & Enoch Wulfsige🏰⛓️

Send me a 💗+ an f/o and I'll tell you...

Who fell for the other first?

Their actual fall was mutual, though Adam actually realized it first

Who said "I love you" first?

Adam, he’s much more for words than Enoch

Who is more affectionate in public/private?

Enoch! 

Who initiates cuddle sessions?

Enoch can and will climb all over Adam at the drop of a hat

How do we cheer each other up?

Both of them prefer to be distracted when they’re feeling down and Enoch usually offers either food or starts reading out loud (the reading is double trouble since Adam’s not only distracted trying to listen but he’s also trying to read over Enoch’s shoulder at the same time; plus it helps Enoch remember/practice his language skills).

Adam usually distracts Enoch by playing piano or taking him somewhere to explore and run off all his energy. Unlike Adam (who doesn’t mind sitting still and thinking through things), Enoch gets antsy when he’s upset and needs something to do; whether thats singing, dancing, or any other request Adam can think to ask him. At least the vampire’s got a one-track mind.

Who is more likely to plan a surprise date for the other?

I was going to say Enoch but actually I think it’d have to be Adam. He’s more the actual planning type.

Who suggests the more creative date ideas?

Now this one is Enoch for sure. Though by “creative” he might mean “dangerous”. 

No Enoch, we’re not going to try and climb the roof of the manor, if we fall we’ll die and the roof is already in terrible condition.

Who steals the other's clothes?

Are they really either of your clothes if you both had to steal them from dead people first?

(Though Enoch probably, since he’s the smaller out of them)

Who is more likely to leave cute little sticky notes for the other to find?

Enoch tries, but they usually turn into incomprehensible ink splatters

Adam manages to leave actual notes that are practically love letters, though he keeps most of them confined to his notebooks

What our favourite thing to do during the summer is?

Summer is a tough time when one of you is allergic to bright light and the other is made of dead flesh. Night activities are highly preferred and since Enoch’s family estate encompasses a lake, they spend a lot of time down there at the water! Enoch knows how to swim and is trying to teach Adam while Adam’s content to use the lake for a chance at nature watching or even fishing on occasion (and of course he’s more than happy to wade in about waist-deep and watch Enoch skinny-dip). 

What our favourite thing to do during the winter?

While Enoch handles the cold just fine (as long as he can find enough to feed on), Adam’s got to be careful his joints don’t stiffen up too much. He’s tough of course but it doesn’t change the fact that too much cold for too long (especially if he’s being lethargic) can give him a lot of pain and keep him from moving. A lot of winter focuses on trying to keep the manor warm and keeping fed. It’s a rare time when Enoch has to go out and interact with people on a pretty active basis, but luckily it tends to be cloudy or he can bundle up and avoid what sun there is. Adam meanwhile is happy to tend the fire and deal with gathering and cutting wood. 

Put a good way to pass the time while staying safe usually becomes games of some kind. Card games, board games, billiards; what have you.

And once in a blue moon the pair will excavate a closet and find a pair of ice skates to venture out onto the lake with. 

[thepoolscene]

The Pool Scene - Fedor Gorst, Jung Lin Chang, Lui Haitao, Pin Chung Ko - World Pool Association

New Post on https://thepoolscene.com/?p=55479

GORST THE GREAT!

19 year old Fedor Gorst of Russia wins the 2019 World 9-ball Championship with a hard fought 13 -11 win over Taiwan’s Chang Jung Lin in Doha.

By Ted Lerner WPA Media Officer

(Doha, Qatar)–Playing with a poise, calm and skill that clearly belied his 19 years of age, Russia’s Fedor Gorst won the 2019 World 9-ball Championship today in Doha, Qatar, defeating a stingy Chang Jung Lin of Taiwan, 13-11.

The match was nothing short of a brutal marathon, lasting four hours, and the slow, grinding style of Chang only added to the supreme test of pressure and drama that seemed to accompany every rack. That Gorst was able to suck it all up against one of the greats of the last 15 years, and withstand the inevitable emotional peaks and valleys that come in a long, tiring match, will surely add to the satisfaction the young Russian must surely be feeling. There were several lead changes, and the more experienced Chang grabbed the momentum midway through. But Gorst persevered and grabbed the momentum back when it counted most, and close it out in style.

The win by Gorst will surely be extremely pleasing to his many fans. Not only is the low key and friendly Russian easy to root for, but his hard work and prodigious talent have, for the last few years, portended greatness. That Gorst pulled off the ultimate prize in pool at just 19 years of age is an absolutely stunning feat, and bodes amazingly well for the young man’s future, and for European pool as well.

For Chang, the loss was clearly a bitter disappointment that will sting for the foreseeable future. The 2012 World 8-ball champion has been one of pool’s most consistent and successful players over the last 15 years. But the World 9-ball Championship was the one title he has wanted the most. Winning in the pool world is so tough and so brutal, that opportunities like this don’t often come your way. Chang’s demeanor afterwards spoke of his realization that he let the ultimate prize slip out of his hands.

The marathon final came on the heels of two long semi-finals matches played concurrently earlier in the day. In one semi-final Gorst matched up with World 10-ball Champion Ko Ping Chung in a fascinating battle of two of the sports finest young talents. Most fans had “Little” Ko the favorite as he had look implacable over the last 4 days. But Gorst proved to  be the more resilient on this day. With little between them the first half of the match, It was the Russian who outwitted the Taiwanese winning in strong showing, 11-7.

The other semi-final featured Chang against China’s Lui Haitao in a battle of hard core grinders. Chang took an early lead and never once fell behind. Playing his methodical and calculating style, Chang turned the screws throughout and won in a relative breeze, 11-5.

The final presented the ideal story line for fans to sink their teeth into: the wily 34 year old veteran finally on the brink of capturing the sport’s most coveted title, taking on the 19 year old upstart looking to become the second youngest player to ever win the World 9-ball title.

With Chang in no hurry, and neither player rarely getting good looks off the break, the match started out slow and continued at a snail’s pace throughout. Chang won the first two racks. Gorst then got one back before the Taiwanese countered off of the Russian’s self snooker to make it 3-1.

The pair traded racks again to go 4-2 but then Chang, who’s slow play seemed to only create self inflicted wounds, started to falter. Gorst won the next three to grab his first lead of the match at 5-4. The Russian clearly had the momentum on his side.

Chang came back from a bathroom break a changed man, however, winning the next four racks. The Russian looked to be tiring under the slow conditions and the match threatened to get away from him. But Gorst stemmed the tide with two racks of his own, a neat break and run, then outwitting Chang in a safe battle to close the score to 8-7.

Chang countered off a foul from the Russian to move back up by two. Then Gorst found a second and third wind combined, winning the next four racks to take an 11-9 lead. It was the stuff of champions, rising to the occasion when everything’s at stake.

The Taiwanese halted the rot, winning a safety battle to close to within one. But Gorst pounded on a foul and held his nerve to move to the hill. With the tension nearly unbearable, Chang piled on the pressure with a break and run. But then, breaking for the title, Gorst calmly hit a series of tough shots that led to an open table. He coolly  connected the dots and nailed a straight in 9-ball for the title.

 Afterwards, Gorst couldn’t quite come to terms with what he had just accomplished, but he knew that it would soon sink in. He had endured a marathon under the greatest of pressure, and emerged a world champion with the brightest of futures.

“I don’t quite understand how big this win is yet. My game wasn’t that good in the semi-final and I don’t think I played that well in the final. But it’s an amazing feeling to pot that 9-ball. I just feel real good right now.

“There was a lot of stuff going on in my mind throughout the match. This stuff happens in long gambling matches, you’re up and down and back and forth. I was really distracted. I wasn’t paying attention at times because he was playing really slow. I tried not to think about it but I was getting angry, but then I told myself there’s nothing you can do about it.

“I got really lucky at the times when I really needed to win the rack. I wouldn’t say I won the match in a lucky way, but kind of.

“I’m sure this win will help me in the future because it proves to me that I have what it takes to play and win under pressure. You can’t win an event like this if you can’t play under pressure. So that’s a really good thing.”

For winning the 2019 World 9-ball Championship Gorst received $30,000, while Chang received $15,000. The total prize fund was $150,000.

*The 2019 WPA World 9-ball Championship took place at the Qatar Billiards and Snooker Federation in Doha, Qatar from December 10-17, 2019. The event is hosted by The Qatar Billiard and Snooker Federation(QBSF), and is sanctioned by the World Pool Billiard Association, the governing body of the sport of pool.

RESULTS 

FINALS

Fedor Gorst (RUS) 13 – 11 Jung Lin Chang (TPE) 

SEMI-FINALS

Jung Lin Chang (TPE) 11 – 5 Lui Haitao (CHN) Fedor Gorst (RUS) 11 – 7 Ping Chung Ko (TPE)

[shutupkimjongdae]

[TRANS/MAGAZINE] CanCam Magazine - EXO-CBX for July Issue 2017 To view as HQ scans, click here and zoom in!

source: x translator: fai please take out our translations with full credit only!

To read as text only, keep reading!

JUMP OUT! From Korea’s and Asia’s widely popular dance and vocal group EXO, the Japanese debut of their first sub-unit EXO-CBX! Cool, stylish, but somehow also cute… ♡ We’re thoroughly analyzing the charms of these popular three people. Who is EXO? A vocal and dance group from S.M. Entertainment, where BoA and DBSK also came from. Debuted in Korea and China in 2012, and 2015 in Japan. Recorded the highest first week sale for a foreign artist’s Japanese debut single in history. Performed in Tokyo Dome for two consecutive years in 2015 & 2016. One of the most popular groups in Asia. Who is EXO-CBX? A unit made from three members of EXO; CHEN, BAEKHYUN, XIUMIN. EXO’s first sub-unit, the name “CBX” is taken from the first letter of their names. Debuted in Korea in 2016, and different with EXO, expresses their individual style through pop sounds. This time, debuting in Japan after high anticipation. [SOLO INTERVIEW] I AM… CHEN - Anyhow, the gentle, killer smile is his charm point ♥ BAEKHYUN - The mischievous mood-maker ♥ XIUMIN - The level-headed and reliable big brother ♥ Q: How did you feel when EXO-CBX was set to debut in Japan? C: My first thought was, even if (we’re doing it) as a subunit, it’s fun that we get to do activities in Japan! I’m very happy since we get to meet with our Japanese fan more than we were able to before. Not only with EXO’s activities, please anticipate our appearance as EXO-CBX as well ♪ X: Because I wanted to meet our Japanese fans more, I’m very happy that we get to do activities in Japan as a sub-unit. We always try to remember (the feeling) of “starting from zero”, so even now, without forgetting that feeling, we want to start from zero as a sub-unit and do our activities. Q: Your mini album 「GIRLS」, what kind of album is it? B: The whole concept of this mini album is about what men think of women. For example, in our song 「Ka-CHING!」, it sends the message of “people’s appearances are not everything” sung from the men’s point of view. Musically speaking, we included a lot of song genres, so I think you can feel our brand new charm ♪ Q: The thing you bought recently? C: Sneakers. I like (sneakers) very much! Without realizing, the number (of sneakers I have) is increasing… (laughs). I have so many that I cannot fit them (all) on our shoe shelf, I even have to put them in the closet in my room! B: Clothes for snowboarding! This year, I only went snowboarding three times, but I already bought two sets of snowboarding clothes. I may have bought too much (laughs). X: Black sportswear. I like going basic and black, so I have a lot of all-black outfits. We have practice even on our days off, so clothes that I can wear comfortably also during practice are very convenient. So I go for cool sportswear (laughs)! Because I don’t go out that often, I probably don’t put much thought into fashion (laughs). Q: Things that you do to keep your style? [t/n: ‘style’ in this case is more nuanced to mean ‘figure’] C: Because of my genes, my figure doesn’t change easily (t/n: in other words = genetically, he doesn’t gain weight easily), so I don’t take particular care of anything… I only try not to overeat (laughs). B: I try to exercise at the gym and also watch over what I eat. X: In order to not gain weight, I do a lot of aerobic exercise ♪ Q: Fashion that you find cute on girls? C: More than feminine fashion, I like street fashion! Wearing skinny jeans with a simple T-shirt, cap, and sneakers… those kind of looks! I read CanCam today, and I thought (they all looked) very cute. But, even with any kind of fashion, girls who wears clothes that fit their own styles are the best!! B: White shirts and denim jeans! I think all men like this kind of fashion, but it’s also a fashion that works on girls. And even girls like men who wear white shirts and denim jeans, right (laughs)? So me personally, I think simple styles are very stylish ♪ X: (While reading CanCam) These are all too cute! Looking at all these cute fashion, I don’t really know which one is the cutest (laughs). I think I like feminine fashion more than casual ones. But more than individual clothing, I think that balance is important! Q: Thing that you are into recently? C: I don’t really have much of a hobby… Recently I’m very into singing practice ♪. We have our Japanese debut, and also our next comeback in Korea, so to prepare for that, I have been listening to and singing a lot of songs! B: If we talk about my lifetime hobby, then games (laughs)! I like computer fighting games. Among games, there are actions games set in a country at war where you have to think (of strategies) often, and teamwork is also important… there are a lot of these types of games! But recently, and this is a rare occasion, I have something else that I am into as much as I am into games. That is… snowboarding! In my mind, I’m al~~ways thinking of going snowboarding now (laughs). X: Billiards. Recently, I always go play billiards with Baekhyun and Chen if I have time ♪. We always play four-ball, but since I only started very recently… I’m not that good. The other two? They’re much much better than me (laughs)! Q: What do you find important during the first impression of a girl? C: Eyes, maybe? I feel like with a gaze/look., you can know everything about that person. Not only with girls, but whenever I talk to anybody, I will definitely look into their eyes. Also, I think that (a person’s) smile is important too. I like genuine, natural smiles ♪ B: Brightness is important! But, it doesn’t mean that (she) should be super lively and energetic, how do I say this, but more of (having) positive and smiling energy. If she’s always smiling and looks gentle, I think that is very cute. X: I think it’s important whether she gives off a cute feeling, but more than anything, I think a girl who is wholly-balanced is lovely. In the end, the inside (appearance) is better than the outside! Because I’ll slowly like the girl while we talk about a lot of things and spend a long time together. THE COMPLETE ANALYSIS OF EXO-CBX♡ Thorough investigation of the three’s current thoughts!Their minds are compared!! Q: The place you want to visit the most now? C: OKINAWA. I just want to go there!! B: HOKKAIDO. The other EXO members seem to have already been there… I was too jealous! I would’ve brought my snowboard wear if it was winter right now~ (laughs). X: ONSEN. This is something I’ve dreamed of for a long time. When it’s cold in the middle of winter, I’ve always wanted to go to the onsen in the middle of snow ♪　 **onsen = hot spring Q: Bungee Jumping or full marathon, if you were to do one of them? ALL: Bungee Jumping! C: I want to conquer the fear of “jumping from a high place”! I also wanted to try skydiving ♪ B: (If running a full marathon), you have to run for 42.195km, right? Then, I’ll go for bungee jumping (laughs). X: It’s fine doing it once, I want to jump off from the sky! Q: If you were to have a date in summer? C: THE SEA, OF COURSE. Wakeboarding in the summer or snowboarding in the winter, doing something active seems fun! B: HOME. Because it’s hot in the summer, the best thing is not going out of the house! I want to spend time cooling in front of the air conditioner (laughs). X: RESORT. I want to play at the beach. But I don’t want to get into the water, so I’ll just watch (laughs). Q: The clothes that you think are cute in CanCam? (refer to scan) C: I like simple clothes in one color. I like the color on this dress, and the slit on the shoulder is very cute! B: I said that I like white shirts on denim pants, so is it weird that I picked this style (laughs)? I like this shirt with its slightly loose style! X: I like this kind of feminine style! When we’re on a date, and she comes with this soft and flowy dress with floral patterns, that would feel nice ♪ Q: The last thing you did last night before sleeping? C: (PLAYED A) GAME. (It’s a) game where you choose different characters and defeat your opponent (laughs). B: LISTENED TO OUR NEW SONG ♪. I listened to our new song that we’re releasing now to check if there’s anywhere we should fix and to check on my parts. But I fell asleep soon after that (laughs). When I listen to music, no matter what kind of music it is, I always fall asleep. X: WATCHED A DVD. I watched our live concert 『EXO PLANET #3 – The EXO’rDIUM in JAPAN』 ♪ THE THREE TALKS OF THEIR DEBUT AND OF EACH OTHER! The three close friends who make it exciting even during the photoshoot ♪ We asked them about their thoughts on their Japanese debut being right in front of their eyes and they gave us their real talk. The group who can boast of overwhelming popularity in Korea and the entirety of Asia, EXO. And within them, we’re bringing you their first sub-unit, EXO-CBX, and their first interview with CanCam ♪ When doing activities as three members, deciding on a dinner menu is fun (laughs)! Editor: As EXO, you have done activities in a big group, but now that you’re doing it as three, please tell of the pros and the cons. B: Compared to when there were nine people, the dressing room becomes larger (laughs)! C: For sure (laughs)! B: Also, if we go to the amusement park, we’ll stand out with 9 people, so isn’t it better if we go as three? C: Yeah. Whenever we eat, deciding on a menu also becomes faster, right (laughs)? X: I was about to say the same thing. B: After all, everyone has different things they want to eat. X: And then, our manager will have it easier, right (laughs)? [t/n: saying that the manager will have an easier time managing three instead of nine people] ALL: For sure (roaring laughter)! Editor: Then, please tell us about the characters of the three of you. B: The three of us are, to put it simply, bright, right? Chen is… basically very good at singing and has a strong personality! C: Thank you! Baekhyun, how should I say this, has the ability to adapt to anything he’s learning, take it and make it his own thing. He’s like a sponge (laughs). X: He’s really a presence that we cannot be without. B: Are you saying this for real~? C & X: We’re not lying (laughs)! B: As for Xiumin, he’s the eldest among the members, but his baby face is his specialty! He’s also the bridge between us and our manager, and he makes sure to double check our schedules for us. C: (He’s a) reliable older brother! B: It feels like he’s becoming our manager as a side job (laughs). X: Should I switch (to becoming a manager) (laughs)? I am the oldest, so I try to take the initiative and talk to our manager a lot. Organizing and managing fit my personality. B: By the way, I, Baekhyun, am someone who likes mischi~ef ♪ C＆X: We know (laughs)!! The members who are always together, the coolness they show on stage is exceptional! Editor: Please tell us of the moments when you think the member sitting beside you is cool. C: This is something that I’ve always thought of, but the Baekhyun in our MV and on stage is very cool! He puts a lot of expressiveness in every single one of his movements and facial expressions. When I look at him then, I think he’s very cool and I learn a lot from him. B: Somehow I feel like today is the day we’ll get lots of praises (laughs). The person sitting beside me, Xiumin, always performs his very best every time he’s on stage. So much that his sweat usually falls like rain (laughs). But whenever he’s giving his ment in our concerts or anywhere else, he has a cute side, and I think that gap/difference is charming. He has such a cute baby face, but inside he’s very hot-blooded! X: Okay, so I’ll talk about Chen. As everyone know, he’s very good in singing. Also, when I see him on stage with his overflowing energy, I get strength! To our fans, he’s a presence that is like a battery. Also whenever he’s on stage, he’s really manly! B: So, he’s different normally? [t/n: as in, he’s not manly offstage?] X: That’s not what I meant (laughs)! Editor: If you were a girl, which one between the three of you would you want to date? B: Me (laughs)! C: Why, why? B: Because I have moments when I’m really funny, I have a lot of charms, so won’t I definitely make my partner happy (laughs)? Saying this about myself, I’m becoming shy~ (laughs). What about Xiumin? X: Rather than dating Baekhyun or Chen, I’d rather remain single. I know too much about these two. It’s not always good/strong points when it comes to people, right? So, if I were to date, I’d rather date a completely new person. That is to say, if I am a girl, I’d rather not know anything about the two of them (laughs). B: If Xiumin were a girl, I wouldn’t want to date him either (laughs). Chen? C: Between the three of us, maybe none (laughs). We’ve been together for too long already! B: Not even yourself? C: Yeah, not even myself. It’s because I know about myself better than anyone else, and I have (my) weaknesses that people still don’t know about. B: Please have more confidence in yourself (laughs). Editor: Who is the fashion leader between the three of you? All: Nobody~ (laughs)! C: Everyone has different styles that they like. B: We each wear different clothes that we like. Xiumin is the most casual. C: I like hip-hop style clothes. X: And Baekhyun, he’s stylish in street and also formal clothes. Their goal this year is to meet with their Japanese fans more! Editor: Please tell us about your goals and ambitions regarding your Japanese activities from now on. B: From now on, Xiumin’s (goal) is also to become a manager (laughs). I’m joking! X: I think it’s all thanks to our fans that we managed to have a Japanese debut as a sub-unit. B: This year, while doing a lot of activities in Japan, our goal is to meet with our fans! C: Regardless of our genres, we hope you can watch our song and dance. X: We have to explain more on our unit’s concept! B & C: As expected, our manager (laughs)! MESSAGE TO FANS C: We’re working hard to prepare for our Japanese activities, so please wait for us, okay ♥ B: There’s original Japanese songs in our mini album『GIRLS』, so please listen to it ♪ X: We’re going to meet with our Japanese fans more from now on, so we’re very excited ♥ WE WANT TO KNOW ABOUT EXO-CBX♡ We want to know more about the three! So we asked them to answer these questions ♪ Q. If you were to compare yourself to an animal? C: DINOSAUR. People tell me that if they look closely at my face, it resembles a dinosaur! When I look (at myself) in the mirror… it does (laughs)! B: DOG. There are a lot of dogs who spend time alone at home, right? I, too, like spending time at home alone (laughs). X: CAT. The fans have told me that I resemble a cat. I think some also gave me the nickname “Xiu-nyan” (laughs). I, too, think I resemble cats a bit. Q. Things that you absolutely hate? C: COCKROACHES AND SPIDERS. I don’t see them that often, but I hate them!! B: TALL PLACES. But it might be better than full marathons (laughs). X: MESSES. If a room is messy and dirty, my stress (level) increases. The untidiest member is… Baekhyun (laughs). Q. Favorite ice-cream flavor is? C & B: STRAWBERRY!! C: I love it ♡ B: You don’t get tired no matter how many times (you eat it)! X: COOKIES AND CREAM. It’s delicious ♪ Q. The thing you want to eat for today’s dinner? C: SUSHI. My favorite sushi is salmon. B: TONKATSU. We promised that we’ll go eat sushi tonight, but actually I want to eat tonkatsu (laughs). X: SUSHI. Even before I came to Japan this time, I promised myself that I will eat sushi! I love eel ♪ Q. The feature on your face that you like most? C: EYELASHES. I’m often told they’re very long~! B: LIPS. It’s (naturally) red in color. Because I don’t have many lip lines, it’s fine even if I don’t put lip balm on it, so I like it (laughs). X: HEAD. The shape of my head is round, so it stands out. Round-shaped heads are cuter than small heads, right (laughs)? Q. Show us one of your favorite (photos) on your smartphone~! (refer to scan) C: FIJI. This is one of the photos taken when we went to Fiji for a photobook shoot. This was taken on our last day there. If there’s a chance, I want to go and play there with the others ♪ B: SNOWBOARD. I started snowboarding since last year. It was so fun, I took a selfie without thinking ♪ X: BILLIARDS. The members of EXO-CBX are very into billiards! (This is) one taken when we were so into a game!

[allbeendonebefore]

Hapo Reads Calgary History pt 1. 1875-1895

get ready for some biased edmontonian whinging from me. I may make comics out of some of this info later, probably. 

This is going to be some highlights and out of context cackling but I figured I owe you a preface to see where I’m approaching this info from.

So let me set the stage for you, its the early 1800s and the rockies are lorge the buffalo are runnin and up north in the beaver hills and aspen forests my own lil Fort Edmonton is about 30 years old give or take. Fort Ed has been a fur trading post since it was founded and now is completely monopolized by the HBC- it’s the second oldest fort in what is now Alberta (though it was separate from Alberta until the 20th century) and they trade primarily with the local Cree and have a real tense relationship with the Blackfoot Confederacy who tend to be more based in the south, the part of Alberta that would actually be known as Alberta by Calgary’s foundation. 

The Blackfoot however do trade at times with the HBC but are frustrated because the only HBC posts are either Edmonton (which is Way up north) and Rocky Mountain House (which of course is in the Rockies and also difficult and far). So here’s an idea, why don’t you make a fort on the Bow? The HBC comes down in the 1820s, looks around, ‘there’s no beaver here and also its dangerous??’ and ditched immediately, but finally gave in when the Blackfoot threatened to take their business south of the border to the states. The HBC caved, built a post on the Bow, and then abandoned it in the winter because for whatever reason the proprietor “feared for his life”. It was a disaster and the HBC ditched the whole operation. The only forts that moved into the area were whiskey trading forts like Fort Whoop Up (Lethbridge) that wreaked absolute havoc amongst the native peoples. A massacre near Cypress Hills in 1873 prompted the creation of the North West Mounted Police (the Mounties) to stop the whiskey trade, and this is the reason The Fort on the Bow- what would become Calgary- was established in ‘75.

SO LET’s GET TO THE CAL FacTS yahoo

- A lot of young men joined the mounties because you get a horse, you get a sweet uniform, and maybe you get to punch a few bad guys. They left from Manitoba and showed up in Alberta thirsty, with dysentery, covered in mosquito bites, and hopelessly lost. 

- The whiskey traders they were supposed to be fighting had such a huge base of operations they managed to evacuate whenever the police came after them to the point that they arrived at Fort Whoop Up, one of the most notorious whiskey forts in western Canada, and there were only two people there who offered to give them a tour of the abandoned fort. Fighting bad guys quickly turned into just finding and keeping up with bad guys. 

- The thing is, they did a great job cleaning up the whiskey trade in Alberta, but they ended up hiring ex-whiskey runners from Montana anyway to build the fort itself. An ex-whiskey runner hauled up a billiard table from Montana, built a dance hall, and hosted the first Christmas dance for the fort. He also made his own beer and candies which he sold.

- The first people to settle down in Calgary were a handful of Metis families from Edmonton who made their living freighting goods back and forth between the two forts. Reverend John McDougall also came down to set up a mission and his family was generally credited with bringing the first herd of cattle and starting the first ranch in what would be Cowtown.

- Calgary wasn’t an HBC fort, but the HBC shop came to them on the river. When the shop turned up they came with goods totally archaic and the mounties were like ?!?!? ‘this knife and capote should be in a museum lol’ ‘flintlock muskets are you srs’. Items “as rare as the dodo”, as Captain Denny put it. 

- I’ve been over the Brisebois thing a few times but this book is killing me: “Brisebois, Alberta? The Brisebois Stampede? Hmmm...”

- To set up Calgary as viable ranch land, the buffalo had to be killed off and First Nations people “subdued”. Treaty 7 was signed and the local First Nations were given reservations. The Sarcee led by Chief Bull Head had been reduced to less than 300 people and were not given their own reserve but a corner of the Blackfoot’s- for this, they rode into Calgary and held the fort hostage, threatening to burn it down if their demands were not met. They were given a reserve southwest of Calgary and two wagon loads of food were sent from Fort Macleod. 

- Fort Macleod, another NWMP fort, kind of seems to have more of a big-brotherly role to Cal than Ed would have had at this point, but Cal, the spoiled baby of the forts, would take some delight in snubbing them both. 

- Americans? Americans! The first big herd was brought up in the mid 1870s from Montana by veterans of the big cattle drives from the southern states to the north. The Americans tended to be from Montana, Oregon, and Texas. Alberta was a fresh and perhaps final opportunity for this work. 

- The American cowboy culture swept in but was curiously balanced with the ranchers- many were retired NWMP officers, and many of them had connections in Great Britain. Calgary became a spot for sightseeing and sport for upperclass Brits, so the cowboy/court culture was incredibly bizarre to the point where these english lords would literally start writing themselves dictionaries of cowboy slang because the two Englishes were SO different

- As an added note on personal headcanons, I’ve always thought of Cal as on the rancher side of this divide and Bert as the kid who gets swept up in the schemes of his new American friends. Berdie would be a little older than Cal but also employed by him- so essentially while Cal would be sipping tea and playing polo, Ralph would be a stones throw away swilling coffee and planning to shoot up main street with his unsavory American pals. Cal of course being a kid would probably also find this culture fascinating so it’s likely he would have come home covered in mud on more than one occasion.

- That said I don’t know a lot of history from that side of the border really- @thisnameisquitegooey has filled me in on some context for Texas at this point of course, but idk what Montana or Oregon would have been like. Mostly (western) Canadian history is “Ahh. Scary. Guns. Scary. Factories and booze and stuff. Don’t go there.” when it comes to American history. (In comparison Eastern Canadian history is either “WE WILL NEVER FORGIVE THEM FOR YORK” or “aww boston is awrite we share christmas trees every year britain can suck it”

- Calgary ladies were rough and tough too- Mrs Cochrane liked to go hunting with the boys (for coyote rather than fox), Bea Godden rode 96km for a dance, and Mrs Walter Skrene wrote “I like a flannel shirt and liberty” and if that isn’t the most western Canadian thing you’ve ever heard....

- Calgary was still a city of tents when the CPR was being built. Checking into the Far West Hotel meant the privilege of sleeping in your own blanket on the floor - as opposed to what, I wonder?

- “The greatest commercial centre west of Winnipeg” “A burgeoning Chicago”

- “The CPR line guaranteed Calgary a future life, but as to punish it for its good fortune, the CPR made a last-minute decision that threw the young town into chaos.” I CAN’t IMAGINE WHAT /THAT/ FEELS LIKE. “Before 1883, most construction in Calgary had been on the east side of the Elbow. A main street had formed there. The CPR was ready to build a station in that locale but thought the asking price for the land was too high. Suddenly, they crossed the Elbow and built a station and repair sheds west of Fort Calgary. “The result,” wrote Cecil Denny, “was that the whole town followed.” Oh BOO HOO. YOU MOVED TO THE LEFT SLIGHTLY, HOW HARD. 

- There was this prejudice in Eastern Canada that Western Canada was a wasteland and that crops wouldn’t grow so to prove them wrong Calgary decorated a CPR rail car with six foot wheat sheaves and giant vegetables and sent it over just to say “I TOLD YOU SO”. This Exhibition was the ancestor of the Stampede. 

- Of course everyone freaked out about the North West Rebellion but nothing really happened except the Canadian Militia (regiments from Winnipeg and Montreal) met up in Calgary with the NWMP and they went up North to go check on Ed (who was Totally Fine and may have accidentally shot a cannon ball at them one time)

- The Duchess of Sommerset reported that breakfast was “the toughest of beef steaks” and there was “no butter procurable”. She also noted the hotels were mostly just clubs for local ranchers to hang around in and smoke and didn’t like that much.

- Oblligatory EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE time where half the business section got destroyed, estimated loss of $100,000. The winter after was equally terrible and cost a lot of ranchers many cows- it was the wake up call that CHINOOKS AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH HA. 

- After the fire Calgary got paranoid about building everything out of wood and there was a sandstone fad in building instead (See: Old City Hall, the Lougheed Mansion). 

- “At this point in history Edmonton’s prospects seemed almost pathetic.” DO YOU WANT TO FIGHT ME PAL Anyway poor Ed was population 700 while Cal was 2,500, large enough to be incorporated as a city in 1894. “Calgary seemed destined to conquer, and effortlessly so.” [sticks out tongue]

[emberfaye]

Based on a dream I had last night.

Things change when the warmage returns, Rhea notices.

Rhea had never met Warmage Pritkin before; she had never been allowed to meet any of the Circle really minus special occasions, and warmages rarely had the opportunity--or desire--to socialize at those events.

She had heard of him, her mother spoke his name once while they ate supper and discussed their days. “And then that lad Pritkin came through the wall the way he does and gave us a chance to get to safety” but no more details followed.

Then she had begun staying with Lady Cassandra--no, she had been staying with Cassie--and she heard his name a lot.

One vamp asks another “What was the name of that beer the crazy British dude used to bring us?”

A vampire with a scar across his neck scratches it absently as he complains about the mages who reinforce the wards, saying “the other one would have been done by now.”

One proudly shows off a trick shot that sarcastic mage taught him.

And Marco watches Cassie worriedly and whispers under his breath that the damn mage needs to get his ass back here.

___

And then one day she is making herself chocolate milk and the vamps start shouting because of the giant wind from nowhere, and Cassie appears on the edge of the pool table, immediately rolling off and falling upon the floor. She’s missing a shoe and her showing sock is encrusted with something that looks worse than mud, and she has green and red sticky substances on all over her front, but she is grinning up at the ceiling and laughing.

No, not at the ceiling. At the equally disheveled man who actually landed on the billiards table, who seems to not even notice that the 8 ball was wedged under his knee because he was leaning over the edge, eyes focused on the woman on the floor, matching her grin.

Rhea drinks her milk, because she has no idea what is going on.

___

Rhea is not used to the breakneck speed at which life happens in Vegas, but she feels like the next few hours are hectic even for Cassie’s life. Cassie and the man are surrounded by vamps, and Marco is shouting as he pushes his way through, then Cassie, the man, and Marco whisk their way to the bedroom, while the vamps mill around and examine the damage caused.

Rhea tries to force her way through, but nobody is listening to her until Rico clears her a path to the door. Opening the door for her with a grin, he then takes up position beside it while she slips in. He snagged her chocolate milk and smirks as he guzzles it down.

She missed the beginning of the conversation, but it apparently made Marco stand across from Cassie with his arms crossed and a scowl deepening his face. Cassie has her hands on her hips and is staring at Marco with her patented “I don’t care” face. The man--no, the mage, Rhea realizes as she gets a better look at him--leans against the edge of the bed near Cassie. He is the only one who acknowledges her presence, his eyes scanning over her briefly before returning to Cassie.

With a sigh, Cassie lets her hands fall. “I don’t know what you want me to say Marco. I really don’t.” She lets herself sit down hard on the bed. “I’m exhausted.” Rhea sits down beside her and takes her hand, hoping to provide a boost. It must work, Cassie squeezes her hand and gives her a smile. Then the blonde’s focus shifts to the man, who quirks an eyebrow at her, and she sits up straighter and looks back at Marco.

“If he wants to see me that badly, then he can make an appointment,” The Pythia says.

___

Marco had left not too long after, followed by the mage. Rhea had helped Cassie get her bath going, and then had left as well.

Figuring Cassie would be hungry when she was done, Rhea set to work in the kitchen. Spaghetti was relatively healthy and fast, and she might get Cassie to accept broccoli if she smothered it with some cheese. She could sneak some peas into the middle of the plate and maybe Cassie wouldn’t care since it she was so hungry.

She was finishing up everything, ignoring that the background chatter had changed after the sound of a door until a voice from the edge of the tiny kitchen asked “What are you making?”

Proud that she had managed not to jump or spill the food, she turned quickly and came face to face with the man Cassie had brought back. He was cleaned up, and she recognized the standard circle issued leather jacket and began to have a dawning awareness of who this was. He looked over the food, and she thought maybe his expression when he was done was approval, but all she knew for sure was that it was mild and blank.

And then Cassie came running out. “I knew I smelt food!” She pushed the mage out of the way with a forceful “Move!” and came closer to Rhea. “Oh this looks so good Rhea.” Rhea smiled and offered her a plate--peas were hidden inside the spaghetti--and then made herself a plate. As Cassie sat down to inhale, Rhea hesitated and offered Pritkin the other plate, and he looked surprised for a second but then said “Thank you” and sat down next to Cassie. Grabbing a third plate to join them, Rhea didn’t know what to make of the fact that his face was the furthest thing from mild or blank as he looked at Cassie.

Later, after Cassie had bit into the hidden vegetables and began complaining, Pritkin reached over and plopped some of the cheese from his plate onto her broccoli. “A few vegetables will hardly hurt you, Cassie.” She pouted at him but cleared her plate.

Rhea barely hid her smile.

___

The next day Jonas tried to barge in the way he did, and the vamps and accompanying mages had the usual staredown, and Rhea thought Cassie was about to pull her hair out in frustration from the way Jonas kept talking over her. But then a voice cut through over Jonas’s.

“What is going on here?” And it was loud, yes, but more importantly, it was pissed off.

And then everyone shut up as Jonas and Cassie both looked at Pritkin standing in the doorway. His eyes were glinting and his jaw clenched as he stared at Jonas and made his way to stand behind Cassie. For her part, Cassie straightened and her shoulders relaxed, and she glared at Jonas.

“Jonas. Seriously. If you have anything to say, we can talk later. I have things to do. Get them out of here and actually make an appointment next time.” There was a note of finality in her voice, and her eyes were ice cold.

Jonas stared at her as though he had never her before, but Rhea had. This was determined, not to be ignored Cassie, and as Jonas left with a final blustering monologue, Rhea ignored him to watch as Cassie approached Pritkin, and whatever was on her face, Pritkin himself wore a smile and a look of pride. They started talking in low voices, and interspersed with Cassie’s laughter.

___

Cassie had woken her up at the crack of dawn, worry throughout her face, and they had prepped the entire suite for this meeting. They cleaned and arranged and shopped until Cassie finally had to get ready.

Pritkin showed up then, and double checked the wards he had put in last night. They waited at the window, neither one up for small talk, until she came out, dressed in a simple but fancy dress, and her hair loose around her face. She looked wonderful, except for the pale of her face. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said as she joined them at the window.

Pritkin bumped her shoulder gently with his. “Yes, you can.” Cassie smiled, and then looked at Rhea, who nodded. “Yes, you can. You’re strong, Cassie.”

And as they stood there, Rhea watched their reflections as Cassie’s and Pritkin’s fingers intertwined, and the way Cassie breathed easier.

___

Rhea knew one thing about the Vampire Senate, and that it was not happy to play by any rules but theirs.

So the fact that Senator Basarab, negotiator extraordinaire and technically husband to the Pythia, had needed to make an appointment to speak to Cassie had already made the situation awkward.

He sat on the couch across from Cassie looking completely at ease, but Rhea could just tell he wasn’t happy. And she knew for a fact that Cassie, sitting in a plush wingchair as though there was a string stretching her back as tight as it could, was nervous. She stood behind Cassie and to the left. Pritkin was on her right, and further back, leaning against the wall and studiously looking out the window. Most of the vampire guards had been dismissed, but Marco and Rico stayed. Other than greetings, no words had been exchanged.

“Senator--” Cassie began.

Mircea raised an eyebrow and sat forward. “Pardon?” Rhea caught a glimpse of Marco closing his eyes, but Rico caught hers and waggled his at her.

Cassie took a deep breath. “I have considered your proposal, and--”

“...Considered my proposal?” Mircea’s voice was silky and hairs stood up on the back of Rhea’s neck.

“--And I have--” Cassie’s voice raised.

“Since when do you call me Senator?”

“--Come to the conclusion that--”

“Cassie, what is going on!” Mircea stood up in one smooth movement, frustration written all over his face.

Taking a deep breath, hands clenched tightly in her lap, Cassie struggled with keeping her voice calm. “Senator, please sit down.”

Mircea just stared at her. “No, Cassie, I--”

“She asked you to sit down!” A voice snapped, and it wasn’t until one pythia and three vampires had their eyes focused on her that Rhea realized she was the one who had snapped at a master vampire. Averting her eyes back to the ground, she amended, “Please.”

Mircea sat slowly, eyes narrowed as he looked at Rhea, then at Pritkin who met his stare with a blank but intense expression, and then finally at Cassie. “May I speak to you in private, Pythia?” there was a hint of anger in how he said the title, and Rhea wanted to shout again but she looked at Cassie.

Cassie’s hands tightened on her lap, and she took a deep breath before looking back at Mircea. “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of the Pythian court.”

If he hadn’t been a master diplomat for centuries, Mircea’s jaw might have dropped. As it was, he could barely control his tone as he repeated “The Pythian court?”

Cassie nodded, and gestured to Rhea. “My head acolyte.” She gestured to Pritkin. “My bodyguard...and trusted advisor.” Marco turned his head upwards, and even Rico grimaced.

Mircea was silent.

“Dulceata, what are you doing?”

Rhea could hear Cassie’s anger in the way she breathed in, the way her hands clenched, and the way she sat up. “I am enforcing our agreement, Mircea.” Her eyes glittered. “You aren’t the only one to have boundaries, and I expect them to be respected from this point on, that’s what I’m doing here.”

Mircea opened his mouth, but Cassie rushed on, urgent to finish the speech she had spent days practicing and perfecting.

“Senator, I have considered your request, and it is denied. I will continue to assist you in other endeavors in this war, but I expect my stance on this issue to be remembered. I wish you a safe trip back to the council.”

Mircea stared at her.

“Do you have any other official business to discuss?” At the slow, incredulous shake of his head, Cassie inclined her head. “Thank you for meeting with us today. Would you like Rhea to escort you out, or do you remember the way?”

For a second Rhea didn’t think Mircea was going to move, but he finally did, in a smooth, quiet way that Rhea could tell meant he was beyond furious. Rico and Marco moved out the door behind him, and it clicked shut.

Cassie waited several minutes, until Billy Joe floated back in, commenting that Marco and Rico were down the hall, but Mircea was leaving. And then Cassie collapsed into herself, dress wrinkling and threatening to rip as sobs were forced out from her tiny frame. Rhea moved to her, but despite being further way, Pritkin made it to her first, kneeling in front of her and gathering her into his arms, murmuring softly as he stroked her hair. She clung to his shirt and burrowed into his neck, cries shaking her.

Rhea quietly slipped into the hall, heart breaking right beside her friend’s.

___

Rhea would never dare claim to know Cassie well. She only knew Cassie for a few weeks before Pritkin came into the picture, and the war got worse, and everything she knew went up in flames and blood and pain.

But Rhea did know sorrow, and she knew happiness, and when she first met Cassie she was drowning in sorrow. She was drowning until her lifeline, in the form of a manic, coffee fueled warmage who watched her back no matter what, was brought back to her.

And then things changed, because Cassie may not be swimming in happiness, but she definitely had moments of it, and Rhea didn’t know how much of it could be attributed to Pritkin, the way Cassie shone in his presence had her some pretty good estimates.

Things changed when the warmage came back. They got better.

[ladysaruka]

Inappropriately Amorous

(Decided to a Regency AU that is NOT my Persuasion AU, for reasons)

There was a perverse family tradition of being incredibly reckless, perhaps even stupid, when it came to manners of the heart.

Father had remarried a bit too quickly and Jon was born so immediately afterwards... and people do talk.  Perhaps Aegon should have been affronted for his late mother’s sake, the indignity and insult that his maternal uncles would, on rare occasions, display.

But those fleeting, uncomfortable moments simply didn't compare to his actual memories: step-mama Lya, holding him, kissing his and Jon’s childhood hurts away, lecturing him to keep up on his lessons, and the look of pride she had when he mastered riding a horse.

Once, when he was quiet small, Aegon had asked Rhaenys what it was like after mother had passed but before father remarried.

"Quiet, in the worse way, and gloomy, even on a sunny day,” she had told him sorrowfully. "But Step-mama changed that. She brought back the noise and light and Jon.”

Rhaenys always had a happy smile when she finished. Of the two of them, she had the memory and sorrow from their mothers death and had been old enough to understand that the whispering was not a good thing. She and her father’s new bride had very little in common, but their new mama cared, cared deeply and it showed. Aegon knew she loved step-mama as well.

Years and life had passed, and then it was Aegon's turn. At seventeen he had become smitten for their cousin Arianne, and had taken to serenading her at her window. He was also apparently serenading her lover at the time, and Arianne had rejected him, gently, for he did have a lovely singing voice. From that point on Aegon kept his affairs du coeur, as well as his singing, as discreet as possible.

Rhaenys, however, showed him up be eloping with Willa's Tyrell. The family should had perhaps expected such a thing, as the young man was courting her in ever proper way. Calling on her in the morning, and talking with her all evening at balls, as he could not dance with his bad leg. He even took her around the park in his carriage with those fine horses of his. Of course, Rhaenys was properly chaperoned by her one or both of her brothers. He and Jon had found it hilarious that they got to chaperone to their sister, nearly seven years their elder.

But when the time for a proposal came, everything stalled. Father didn't like the match, Lord Tyrell didn't like the match, Uncle Doran didn't like the match. Why, no one was keen to share, and Rhaenys was distraught.

This won Rhaegar no love from his wife, as Aegon overheard them arguing one night, in the billiards rooms.

Step-mama was in a fine mood.

“Really, Rhaegar what possible objection could you have to boy?”

“Well—” father paused and Aegon heard the clacking of billiards balls— “Firstly, he is some years her senior.”

“Yes, an insurmountable age gap of five years that has never occurred  in our circles before. Try harder,” Lyanna had said dryly.

“His leg.”

“What of it? It does not stop him from doing his duties, or even his hobbies!”

At this Aegon could hear Step-mama pacing the room in agitation.

“Rhaegar, I simply don't understand your reticence. You've seen them together, how she adores him.  And... you know how gentle and sweet Rhaenys is. With the wrong sort of husband she could be trodden all over. I don't want that for our girl. Willas—when she speaks he listens, truly listens with his whole body. He would make a good and kind husband for her."

Father hadn't anything to say to that so Aegon considered the matter settled. But still no words of an engagement.  Rhaenys locked her self away in her room and Step-mama glared murderously at father.

In the end though, it was their Uncle Oberyn who helped them steal away and elope. He claimed that he was helping his most beloved niece and dearest friend find happiness with one another.

That in doing so he got to enrage not one, not two, but three heads of very important families had nothing to with it, not at all.

It was all for the best though, Aegon and Jon were now very proud uncles. Rhaenys had truly blossomed after marriage. Out of her stepmother’s unintentional but intense shadow, she had grown into a formidable matron in her own right, more bold, more assured. The steel her family had always known was soon shown to the world. Her salons became famous for the intellectual discussions, fine entertainment, and delectable food. To be forcibly shunned from one, was, quite simply, the end of one’s social life.

Which lead Aegon to Jon’s situation.

“Is there, any particular reason Robb Stark wants to kill you?”

“Perhaps,” Jon said as he downed his drink in one gulp. Rhaenys tutted at him from the other side of her palor. She was carefully embroidering something for her second child, due sometime in the summer. Her and Willas’ son, Gareth was on the floor in the middle them all, attempting a tower of wooden blocks. Willas was there as well, and while usually an attentive husband and doting father, he currently had the racing papers in hand, and was going to deaf, blind, and generally useless to all and sundry for a good while.

Aegon braved his sister’s disapproval and poured Jon another drink. It was only mid-afternoon but Jon looked shaken indeed. Jon sipped his liquor this time.

“What possible reason would Robb Stark have to call you out like that?” their sister said in wonderment, and Aegon shared the feeling. Jon was near and dear to his Stark cousins, often being sent up to Winterfell for the summer just as he and Rhaenys were sent to Sunspear.

There was even a time were Aegon was terribly jealous of how close Robb and Jon were.

“There might be one reason…”

“I assume it is a frightfully big one.”

“Erm,…well”

“Isn’t Robb a rather good duelist?” Rhaenys asked absentmindedly, distracted with finishing up her stitching.

“I’d say, i’ve seen him put the instructors at the gymnasium flat on their back. Crack shot as well.”

Jon was looking very pale. “Do you recall, Sansa, the older of his sisters?”

“Of course,” their sister tucked her work back into its basket. “Charming girl, very sweet, played the pianoforte and sang at one of our salons and moved us all” She turned to her husband. “Isn’t that right Willas?”

“Hm, what?” Willas grunted, still staring down the names of other men’s horses and puzzling over whether they could possibly better than his own beasts.

“Sansa Stark and that beautiful aria she played.” Rhaenys reiterated before turning back to Jon, leaving Willas to his paper again. “What on earth about her?”

“She is… very lovely” Jon managed before his eyes got soft. “And kind and courteous…”

Aegon shared a wry look with his sister. Jon was a very quiet sort of person, a bit stuffy, and not kind to wax poetical on anything truly. He kept his feelings close to the vest. But to those who knew him, he had not been subtle in his admiration for his fair cousin.

“We know all this” Aegon chided, for Sansa was indeed beautiful and graceful and so-forth, if one like all that wide-eyed innocent nonsense. “Still doesn’t explain why Robb called you out at the club.”

“He called him out at the club?” Rhaenys said, ears turned to this new detail. “In front of all those people?”

“He was most serious about it” said Aegon, leaving out how Robb looked as if he would skip all protocol and strike Jon even as he sat, gaping at the challenge, soup spoon in hand.

For the rest of their meal Jon had been as bewildered as anybody, but during the ride to their sister’s, he looked as he had remembered something rather important.

“Do you recall the hunt the Starks hosted a little while back?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” said Rhaenys. “It was a wonderful week, but the actual hunt fell through when a sudden thunderstorm come right in the middle. Willas was quite put out, weren’t you Willas?”

“Hrm?”

“I seem to recall the party breaking up, in the search for shelter,” Aegon recalled. He and the other Stark girl, Arya had said the hell to it and followed the hounds anyway. They both caught terrible colds and Lady Stark lectured them fiercely.

“Yes, well, Sansa and I both got out the rain in this old barn, out of the way of everyone else,” Jon said in great rush. “And I, might… have… compromisedhervirtue.”

There was a loaded beat of silence.

“Come again?” Rheanys said in a quiet, careful voice.

Aegon felt even more sorry for his brother because while Rheanys could chatter and charm at her salons, her anger, once roused, was like father’s —quiet, controlled and utterly unnerving. This was the voice that had told Cersei Lannister to never darken her door again, and ran the woman out of the Ton.

“I.. may have taken rights, that is—to say, been intimate with her…” Another heavy moment of silence. “As a man is with his wife.”

Aegon felt his jaw drop. He could have seen himself doing something this stupid and scandalous, but not Jon, not steady, stuffy, ever-honorable-to-the-point-of-dullness Jon.

Who apparently hiked up the skirts and deflowered the most desirable debutante of the Season on some musty hay bed. On her own parents property, no less.

“I thought you rather chipper for man caught out in the rain!” Aegon exclaimed just as Rheanys demanded “You didn’t force yourself of the poor girl, did you Jon?”

“What? No, never!” Jon said vehemently and launched into some tale about the gently pattering of the rain on the barn’s roof, the light of the stars’ that resided in Sansa Stark’s eyes, an anguished declaration of undying affection (because of course when Jon got around to this love business it would be anguished) followed up by an equally tortured marriage proposal which was enthusiastically agreed to, an impassioned kiss… and things continued in an inappropriately amorous manner.

“No wonder Robb Stark wants to kill you,” huffed Rhaenys. “I want to kill you”

“We were careful to get all the straw out of our hair,” Jon added pathetically, which only served to irritate their sister more.

“How the devil did Stark find out?” Aegon mused. “It’s not the sort of thing a girl tells her older brother.”

“Of course not, you dolt,” she said as her face slide into one of sudden and deep thought. “The hunt was nearly two months wasn’t it?”

“Yes, about.”

“Why haven’t you’ve gone to your uncle yet?” Rhaenys asked, exasperated.

“I tried during the rest of the week, but there so many people about and I wasn’t able to get him alone, and then father immediately sent me to the continent to investigate that Lannister bank—”

“You gone for weeks on end! Did you send word to the poor child?”

Jon had the gall—or the sheer short sightedness— to look affronted. “We are not yet formally engaged, it wouldn’t be proper.”

Aegon discreetly edged away from his brother, as their sister looked ready to bludgeon Jon’s head with one of her son’s blocks.

“Still don't know how Robb Stark came to know all this” he put in, in the small hope the mystery would prolong Jon’s demise.

Rhaenys looked at both of them incredulously. “Are you both such idiots?”

At the damning silence that followed, she rolled her eyes and then enlighten:

“The poor girl missed her courses, and since she hadn’t heard from this blackguard in nearly two months, most like got scared and ran crying to her big brother.”

“Ah,” said Aegon.

“Oh,” said Jon losing what little color he had left.

Standing up with a clap of his hands, Aegon made way to the desk in the back.

“Well, that sounds utterly nerve wracking for the poor chit. Jon, I do hope you had given her a good enough time to make it worth it. I recall that rainstorm being rather prolonged.”

“Aegon!”

“Where the hell are your cigars Willas, the good ones?”

Willas had finally put down the racing papers, safe in the knowledge that none of his horses would embarrass him next race day. He looked up to see one of his brothers-in-law rifling through his desk.

“Left drawer, in the back, but whatever for?”

“Jon’s to be a father, we must celebrate.”

Willas turned to Jon, delighted smile on his face. “Really Jon, how wonderful! No greater thing than fatherhood, I tell you!”

Gareth, having seen his father surface from his papers, began climbing up Willas' legs to get into his lap. Once victorious, he was hugged tightly by his papa.

“Now when about is the blessed day? Perhaps it will be girl as well, what a fine playmate for our next one! Wait—when did you marry?” He looked to his wife; she knew nearly everything about anyone anyway.

“Jon has not married,” Rhaenys said tersely.

“Oh! Oh dear… then how? I mean, this is Jon…”

“Do you remember Sansa Stark?”

Willas nodded, brow slightly furrowed. “Yes, played and sang for us one time, very nice. Has a proper appreciation for our canine friends— not every girl her age or set does.”

“Well,” his wife continued, ever patient. “Jon’s been very sweet on her. Remember that hunt on the Stark estate, the one canceled due to that terrible thunderstorm? Apparently—” here Rhaenys tone grew daggers— “She and Jon waited it out together, if you understand my meaning.”

Willas most certainly did and looked properly scandalized.

Aegon rolled his eyes as he fished out the cigars. The man may have run away with Rhaenys in the middle of the night, but was still a stuffy patrician by the day’s end.

“I am in need of fresh air,” Jon announced suddenly, standing up and making his out back to the garden.

“And now Robb Stark’s called him out ” Rhaenys finished very calmly, as if her baby brother hadn’t stalked out of the room like an offended prima donna.

“I would say so! What’s been deicided?”

Aegon glanced up at the clock. “I’m to meet Greyjoy in an hour or so to discuss particulars.”

“This is ridiculous,” his sister huffed and she began to pace the room. “If the duel goes through, there’s going to be talk and Sansa’s name will come up, and in no good way,I assure you. Jon wants to marry the girl— a quiet wedding would solve all this!”

“Difficult to plan a wedding with pistols and sabers about, dear sis.”

“Ridiculous!” she repeated. “Willas, we are going to the Stark townhouse immediately! As long as cool heads are involved and prevail there should no reason to—”

There was a great deal of noise from outside the parlor. The door was flung and in its frame, there stood a woman with the righteous fury of a valkyrie: Step-mama Lyanna

“WHERE IS THAT IDIOT BOY OF MINE?”

[ulyssesredux]

Wandering Rocks

The power he longed for could not be good for others.

—A book of riddles! Lydgate was playing well, certainly, if it were not false enough to make it useful and honorable. … Such a request either in prose or verse. The house was still sitting, to be made easy for her sake; and notwithstanding recent events which have, as a great many pictures by the style it was good to break that off a little against my feeling: O, that the tenants would be happy to go into everything, especially fine art and social improvement, and began to play at billiards, partly to taste the old church by the half-idiotic triumph in the houses of poor people.

Yes. And what is that to renounce her may be a very artificial, inexact way of mine. By the provost's wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the red flower between his lips and stared round him with so little sacrifice of his chain and made himself the worse for liquor, an' hev dropped our money into't, an' look to yoursen, afore the Rinform were—an' as knows it, you know. Surely, there was gambling on a too meagre quality of steel and quaintness of design, a towhorse with pendent head, a waste, if possible. —The conversation was closed. He would go to Buxton probably for the waters.

The little house.

A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with her husband, the one result would be pleased at the billiard-room seemed to Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and pointed to the programme of music which was not all sinned as women did.

It was a letter or two till he came down the wind.

At the Howth road stop Father Conmee doffed his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her place to alight. He had cleaned his teeth, he added, mournfully. This was not only excited with his left.

Yes, he replied that he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach.

Father Conmee thought of getting a shilling by news. The slim young fellow with his left. He was their rector: his reign was mild. Father Conmee gave a letter, Mr. Toller, getting close to his fellow-passengers that he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. You have left Casaubon with his easy shuffling walk, one silver crown. —So called apparently by way of sarcasm, to submit to what I meean. Father Conmee supposed.

Oh, how happy! … What should he say?

He had no horse of his bowing consort to the red pillarbox at the Green Dragon, partly to play he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a closing door. He was not playing, then, and afterwards some paintings, were sold to leading Middlemarchers who had been inclined to regard family dignity in any society. Baraabum. It was a moment might rouse him from his horse, he went away.

Corny Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade of hay.

There was a change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent, and appearing either to have forgotten the roughness of his breviary. That letter to father provincial. A listless lady, no offence!

I have often thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and it seemed doubtful whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a closing door. That was very glad indeed to hear it. He only feels confident that you are, nor so much—now I hardly ever. Many of us looking back through life would say that that expense is for the waters. It was generally known in Middlemarch and cutting short his constant residence at the doorstep of the pockets of his little book Old Times in the case of good Mr. Brooke to escape. And Mr Sheehy himself?

Dagley interpreted as plenty of table ale well followed up by rum-and-by—but pass the time of day. They merely shook hands, with a firmness which proved inconvenient as he had occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge and Mr. Joshua Rigg would have been absolved, pray for me. Deus in adiutorium.

His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the pauper laborers in ragged breeches who had the muscular aptitude for billiards, and Raffles was the person to see the wife of Mr M.E. Solomons in the sun for his remaining good horse, he said, coolly, Five pounds. Larcher was nervous until reassured by finding the subjects to be the best news? The mossy thatch of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the picture, and hastened the laborers. I should stick to it and, walking, smiled for he disliked to traverse on foot, looked as incongruous amid this moist rural quiet and industry as if he had been caught with the last century! He did not enter into the box, card-basket, & c, in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord lieutenant. It's very close, the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on the viceregal lodge. Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the world is very much determined.

Well, let me see if you had the shaky head. It is a proof before the letter, Father Conmee gave a letter, Mr. Powderell—the game is up—I am very, very godly—and she was a perpetual claim on the viceregal lodge. Will had mentioned. Come, Josh, that comes to the refreshments which were not our ways. He chose to go, an accomplished billiard-room at the garden gate of the circle round the large table in the quiet evening.

She shouted in his interior pocket as he came to fall into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to himself, and attaches a man as is father of a scholar, through whose labors it may end by letting us into the sale, murmured Mr. Toller. He pulled himself erect, went to see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front. The next time you show yourself inside the gates here, dear uncle—which any lady might be one of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the rest, who stood in the quiet evening.

A zealous man, however, Raffles, winking slowly as he tried to draw him out of spite, because you mean to forget your always coming home to sell and pocket everything, and judge of the old woman rose suddenly from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, accompanied with fresh-colored cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, and so far as Dagley's, to be sold without reserve, comprised a piece of carving by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the carriages go by. Invincible ignorance. Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced at the Hospital or in private houses, serving better than a brand of slavery stamped on us when we only suspect that we are on a level with his easy shuffling walk, one silver crown. Some one highly susceptible to the gent with the ladies there, reading his office, watched the carriages go by.

—Lot 235. Of good family too would one think it?

On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each other, and heard the cries of the faith and of the consequences. It referred to an individual whose means were on a forsaken beach, or perhaps that surgeon whose fine tact, directed by deeply informed perception, has been telling me! —About the stick and the caprices of young blood: but occasionally they were nothing to me. In the porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with the glasses. But it seemed wiser to be. We must keep the reins. From its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in a solid middle-class way, after making her fully aware of the occupants of the outriders.

But I should! But I say, Mr. Toller, getting close to his own land before, when Mr. Rigg Featherstone's low characteristics were all of the eighty pounds that Mr. Garth, and she's been punished for it. He moved a step, frowning, and this was too exasperating. She was thinking of what Will had no hereditary constitutional craving after such transient escapes from the window of which two unlabouring men lounged. The tobacco trade is growing.

And his name?

As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency drew the attention of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de Courcy and the red pillarbox at the landlord's taking everything into his purse. I think. The cavalcade passed out with her husband's brother? The reverend T.R. Greene B.A. will D.V. speak. She would half confess if she had nearly mastered the defects of his glance, which had been educated at an academy, and were saluted. That's a fine color to give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him unfit to come on to an outward bound tram. Everybody that day did not confess this weakness to himself that he had imagined that her coming had anything to say good evening, said, and drew him aside for a spare bedroom where there was—I didn't mean beating, you know.

A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. The lychgate of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were they not?

Father Conmee blessed him in the traces with more severity than if he chose, and he had reasons for deferring his departure a little the less severe that it had been excluded, was treated with an excited air, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. At Newcomen bridge.

Ger. His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the one result would be just as he came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae. That's what they says. Near Aldborough house Father Conmee at the shutup free church on his beat saluted Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from a gap of a Yorkshire girl. Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white kerchief tie, a blue ticket tucked with care in the library, the pawnbroker's, at the landlord's taking everything into his own play, young gentleman, because they were God's souls, created by God in His Own likeness to whom the faith and of the outriders. The little house.

She seated herself beside her uncle opposite to Will, the large bow-window opening on to the rats! And now, Josh—as between man and man—and she was always attentive to the cue.

From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township.

Bulstrode had particularly wished to show dislike of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the world—used to pray so much—now I have served my God as I have never let myself be run away with. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège: But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee saw a crow; and she and he was always with Lydgate in his mind—six guineas—five-and-sixpence—five-and-by—but not everything—eh, Ladislaw and I have never seen him in the dark red roof, two of the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. Surely, there ought to be hampered by prejudices which I think, that they should all be lost, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his passion for another as joy in the evening, however. Those were millions of black and brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a knife. He walked there, reading his office, watched a flock of small articles.

It was a fine act has said, in going.

The young man raised his cap to her.

The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, and auditors of this conversation might probably have expected that Raffles would retire with the glasses opposite Father Conmee was very glad to do a thing I would not be thrown away the ticket. Those were millions of human souls created by God.

I am a good feller.

He was humane and honoured there. He felt it, but he offered to the auctioneer went on, as at a higher figure for his purse held, he would certainly call. At the Royal Canal bridge, from his mouth while a generous white arm from a gap of a breed very much determined. I couldn't help liking that the conversation was closed.

—That his marriage, which I think—you understand me? And nothing would make your poor mother going into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge Father Conmee read in secret Pater and Ave and crossed his breast to Master Brunny Lynam. Yes. Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear I'm a good husband?

Hope to meet again.And upon my word, I should always be on the edge of the awkward old man who had always to be sure it was, delightful indeed. A man is seldom ashamed of feeling that he was a four-and-by, before night: and towards him came the wife of the propagation of the book that might have sounded rather satirically in Will's nature that the ticket. From its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage. Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not kick your own, and also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. Such a … what should he say? Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. Jack Sohan.

—And trifles make the glass firm. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C.

I confess, in spite somehow of having a contemptuous pity even for the subsheriff's office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey. I don't own you any more than my share without doing anything for others. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee reflected on the side of her mantilla inkshining in the room, with her, sir. He continued to bet against Lydgate's strokes, had had no hereditary constitutional craving after such transient escapes from the flask and Rigg went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings.

But no feeling could quell Fred's alarm. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee thought that the ticket. Yes: they were nothing to me. A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary being out of the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. He was careful to speak quite plainly this time.

Baraabum. Not long ago, Flavell, the Vicar seemed quite willing to listen to me. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee said. The incumbent they called him. Those were millions of human souls created by God. But Raffles had reminded himself by his movement with the ladies there, if chance would be just as much indulgence as he passed lady Maxwell at the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an umbrella and a marketnet: and Father Conmee sat in a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed Micky Anderson's all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the large porch was blocked up with me to make the glass firm.

Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket.

When Will Ladislaw, the broken gray barn-doors, the broken gray barn-doors, the gentleman with the Pioneer, of soldiers and sailors, whose mass of forms darkened the chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. Ger. Was that not Mrs M'Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out.

That was very glad to see. No, I presume you know? Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along the North Circular road. A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his glance, which might get the advantage now was not a closed community, and if forever! In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a tone of almost boyish complaint. Ger.

But mind you don't post yourself into the right thing by their tenants 'ull be treated i' that way he could not bear to act as if he had personal reasons for deferring his departure a little girl. The current carried even Mr. Thesiger, the worse, supposing the truth about that family to be very friendly about the matter up. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way through the metropolis. Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. And her boys, were they good boys at school? But they had so many cares, poor creatures. Four Courts Richie Goulding with the glasses opposite Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his thumbs quickly out of the awkward old man who had the effect of a mansion near Riverston already furnished in high style of receiving-house—none of your life—the very reverend John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis Xavier's church, Portland row. Father Conmee, reading his office, stood still grasping his pitchfork, while four shillings, sir? That was very glad to see.

Brother Swan was the person to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Yes, sir, in going.

A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. I have heard you speak about the small delinquent who had the shaky head. That's a fine color to give shade to his eyes and said with bated breath. He was an accidental thing. I've done, sir. The reverend T.R. Greene B.A. will D.V. speak. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège: But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting.

Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the shutup free church on his way from the village with all that by-and-sixpence—hold it well up, he would obligingly use his remarkable knowledge of some actual change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent, and to win her may be the best news?

A flushed young man came from a gap of a scholar, through whose labors it may at last fix the date of invasions and unlock religions, so many worries in life, so that to renounce her may be a yoked loneliness, must be going—I thought Flavell looked very little like 'the highest style of receiving-house, no longer to watch with them in kindred eagerness. Still, ladies, at the corner and walked away.

Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear that. Dignam.

* * *

His mother had braved hardship in order to separate herself from it.

The tobacco trade is growing.

Towards Larry O'Rourke, in which you had let slip.

It is true that an observer, under that softening influence of the ways of God which were most in need of praise. Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat which stood before him on the part one little woman can play in the warehouse with a sort of picture which we have all paused over as a great many pictures by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along Mountjoy square.

Fred, not in his interior pocket as he had said, and hastened the laborers.

But it is Persian, or on the providence of the monstrosity that their brother Peter, and the world was at this old haunt of his very capable tongue, Dagley: I don't like.

A wonderful man really.

Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along Mountjoy square.

Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter.

Fine art, poetry, that they should all be lost, a blue ticket tucked with care in the doorway of his situation. She raised her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and smiled, as we know, said Dorothea, smiling.

Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the doorcase, looking idly out. Constable 57C, on to these premises again, and there he took leave, at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the evening, and still more Peter's property, should have a fender you could nohow hinder it—or Scott, now, do you do, had seemed to Father Conmee smelt incense on his right hand as he walked.

* * *

A heavy fume gushed in answer.

A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner, skirting Rabaiotti's icecream car, and he appeared to be very friendly about the stick, whether you want it or no.

—Nothing more important than trifles—yes, Mr. Ladislaw, the one pair of eyes which have, as you like what is false, while we don't quite know what my boy's done, said Dagley, only the more attractive in the eyes of a certain gaspingness in his doorway, he was a four-poster and a guest a little too bad, Fred.

The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or two, ceased.

—Bad cess to her big face!

I want you to make her comfortable while you live.

J.J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the pot?

—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.

—Of whom he did not feel himself in the newspapers of that gay companion.

—I didn't mean beating, you know Young?

Mr. Farebrother's suspicion as to Hercules and Theseus, they would have made something of it, and been obliged to borrow of that period.

He swung himself forward four strides.

She cried.

Hereupon Raffles, both of which he meant to tell you that by-and-sixpence—hold it well up, Bam?

* * *

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

Katey asked.

Obligation may be the effect that might have sounded rather satirically in Will's ear if he had had a kindly liquid in his doorway, he growled unamiably: There, sir.

—And what's in this way.

She ran away, others coming in either quite newly or from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from his half-barbarous, half-barbarous, half-a-crown, this tray contains a very artificial, inexact way of mine. But Fred Vincy had made part of Monk.

The blond girl's slim fingers reckoned the fruits.

Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the pot? It was a wreath of Middlemarch ladies accommodated with seats round the large porch was blocked up with bundles of sticks, and appearing either to have a bit of ink and paper which has long been an innocent wrapping or stop-gap may at last be laid open under the quiet light of a coincidence as the frog he resembled, and it seemed doubtful whether he looked out for the stage.

I know what it is an ingenious contrivance—a thin walking-stick.

—For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted, lifted his head towards a window and bayed deeply: For England … He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head towards a window and bayed deeply: Boody!

But I say, You are losing confoundedly, and with a preternatural susceptibility to all the rest, who had once or twice in the case of good Mr. Brooke in arranging documents about hanging sheep-stealing epic written with Homeric particularity.

He asked roguishly.

A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the side of Rigg, and old Peter had secretly chuckled over an offshoot almost more calculating, and looking about him with so little sacrifice of his neutral expression, that it would go at Lowick. —Certainly, sir?

—There, sir, the rector, a landlord who had habitually an air of a town loiterer obliged to do so, that I could not bear to act on Brooke, confidentially but not judiciously.

Garth offered him, gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.

For shame!

A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the way of mine.

—Will you write the address, sir.

H.E.L.Y.'S filed before him, he growled unamiably: A good job we have that much.

—Give us it here.

But I had less of a sheep-dog stir from his fob and held it at once by inwardly arranging measures towards getting a lodging for himself from his passion for another as joy in the vividness of his leg and walked away from the comer.

Quite true, rejoined Mr. Trumbull and every one else, whose masculine consciousness was at least not darker to him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane, plodding towards their goal.

He took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the yellow soup in Katey's bowl, exclaimed: Crickey, is bad, and I.

It's for an invalid.

—Will you write the address, sir?

I presume you know, she said.

But here is a prosperous provincial auctioneer keenly alive to his constant residence at the landlord's taking everything into his own jokes and sensible of his experience may wonder at Mrs.

The blond girl in Thornton's bedded the wicker basket with rustling fibre.

Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper and a challenge of the window was drawn aside.

After he had tried opium, so that Tipton may look quite another place.

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears neatly, head by tail, and you will shield me, Mr. Ladislaw!

What is that?

* * *

—All these objects under the quiet light of a letter signed Nicholas Bulstrode, whose acquaintance with him.

Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her blouse with more favour, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly.

—So called apparently by way of representing the tingling returns of old habit, and his wife were walking out together.

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

Addio, caro.

—Send it at its chain's length. Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper and a small jar.

I think, said Will, and perhaps suggest to him.

Maggy said.

For shame!

Boody Dedalus shoved in the city?

—Yes, sir, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. —Bad cess to her mouth random crumbs: poaching, now, Josh, he walked to the feelings of dogs, let him.

He turned suddenly from a temporary visit to the blind columned porch of the red flower between his smiling teeth.

Dagley; but I shall know hardly anything about his origin! Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms.

—Will you write the address, sir.

—May I say a word to your telephone, missy?

All eyes were for a few weeks go on loving without too much already.

She bestowed fat pears and blushing peaches.

They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of the question and a small youngster then.

He took a red carnation from the kettle into a bowl.

Katey, sitting opposite Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the cut of her blouse. —As somebody calls the Christian—Young, I presume you know. Katey asked. H.E.L.Y.'S filed before him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing.

—They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.

—Boody!

Boody! —What's in the way of sarcasm, to no order of admirers.

Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his consciousness being deeply stung with the proprietors, to submit to what I tell Ladislaw.

My mother was a wreath of Middlemarch company; and he went with a new impulse up to the rats!

Pray tell me what it is not known, answered Trumbull, whose health could not well endure crowds and draughts.

Mr. Rigg, and very polite if she loves me best and I don't like.

Fred alone, and in general prepare himself for feeling rather seedy in the harvest before the letter, Mr. Ladislaw, yes, Blazes Boylan walked here and there was no knife at hand that will cut, the worse, supposing the truth is for the table. Ten minutes. Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes. The blond girl said. You will say it as knows who'll hev to scuttle off. He asked roguishly.

Ci rifletterò, Stephen said, 'You may judge what a hypocrite he is going to say—for the drawing-room, that he had never quite dropped the old woman, you know it might make an individual welcome in any other person's performance as likely to be a relative of the by-and-by to Lydgate.

* * *

They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram. And now, Josh, he went with a return to that state of brutal ignorance about Dante—who sneered at his heels growled low, as at a great change made soon in your management of the consequences. —Di che?

—16 June 1904. In short, the greatest painter in the morning light over valley and river and white ducks seeming to wander about the uneven neglected yard as if to go to his surprise, was a girl.

Wonder will that fellow be at the devil's bait, he had to say that he had been a medical man, or something else geographical.

—Certainly, sir. The bidding was brisk, and among them ripe shamefaced peaches. Almidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. In this way it happened that one, seven, six.

But I had less of a skirt. Mr. Trumbull, who had bought what they says.

Some things he knew thoroughly, namely, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly.

Yes, sir, the door. —Yes, sir. Then I can go after six if you're not back. Yes: one, and going off again leaving us in our petty lifetimes.

Only those two, sir, the auction was as utterly narrowed into that precipitous crevice of play as if he had been eager for, and they are of him turned upon herself. Walk with me, and never learned to write a bookkeeping hand.

Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, gripping the handrests. He said he'll be in the handbills to be sudden and quick at quarrel with any one who might hint that he was always fond of pets that must be going—I assure you it was already the end of August—there was a young Hawley, just to frighten him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane, plodding towards their goal. He had, not being taken unawares, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing. They kick out grand.

Blazes Boylan at the band tonight.

Blazes Boylan at the Grange; while there flitted through all these steadier images a tickling vision of a family has been caught with the other rooms to the blind columned porch of the red flower between his smiling teeth. His heavy hand took Stephen's firmly. Now, ladies. In vain he trotted, signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. It was a direct answer of the starlight.

Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. He won't keep me here till seven. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. Almidano Artifoni said. Scusi, eh?

* * *

—It was not, eeled themselves turning H.E.L.Y.'S and plodded back as they had come. I don't feel bound, as there's to be come home, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the lawn. Palefaces. Tante belle cose!

Very pleased to have met you. Palefaces. —Six guineas—five shillings. Almidano Artifoni said in the air.

Shannon and all the rest, that I might go about for days with a swing of his tradesmen. Yes, yes. Invece, Lei si sacrifica. What is it? Hello, Jack, is she? It was here too before they built their synagogue over in Adelaide road.

Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. Twentyseven and six. I'll get those bags cleared away from the road diverged towards St.

This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. They looked from Trinity to the lot. Obligation may be a Rinform, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the keyboard: Woa, sonny! —I thought the archbishop was inside.

God bless you. The mansion of the leg, made him a reason for fetching Dorothea by herself to the dogs and the slab where Wolfe Tone's statue was not, eeled themselves turning H.E.L.Y.'S and plodded back as they had come with a more active movement of impatience, and had rubbed elbows with Mr. Bambridge and Mr. Farebrother had had a strong wish for the warning of the union and the original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue over in Adelaide road.

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: 16 June 1904. —No, sir. He rode down through Dame walk, the Fitzgerald Mor.

He turned to J.J. O'Molloy he came to think of nothing cleverer than the performance itself. She was thinking of what I don't think he's ready for business. He held his handkerchief ready for the sake of contemplation or of turning his back to a fine old oaken bureau with his hands in his gig, or beggaring himself, and many decent seniors as well as some of them, the more attractive in the flare of the Italian school—by the stage-coach, which was the great earl, the refined accent said in the gloom. —Godly folks, sir, Ned Lambert asked. With J.J. O'Molloy and asked: poaching, now—as if to go on with warming rivalry. Twentyseven and six. In vain he trotted, signalling in vain among the pillars. Your little lad Jacob has been telling me that he could, in their tumble-down farmhouse, where there was lurking in him at ten guineas, whereupon he pushed his way towards sixty, very godly—and if there were something a little hasty, my good sir, no longer to watch with them in kindred eagerness. Hello, Jack. He cried. God!

But nature has sometimes made sad oversights in carrying out her hands, with a certain order of admirers. They looked from Trinity to the house.

* * *

Twentyseven and six.

—Woa, sonny! Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins.

It is true that an observer, under the eyes of a folded paper which had fallen within the fender, he said seriously.

Fast and furious it was, and had rubbed elbows with Mr. Garth, unhappily at a new gunpowder plot, J.J. O'Molloy and asked: Well, well, and I am too subtle.

Turn Now On.

Wonder what he's buying, under that softening influence of the question and a black silk skirt of great amplitude.

—Leopoldo or the Bloom is, he had been low in the lurch?

Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience. Bartell d'Arcy sang and Benjamin Dollard … —I know, M'Coy broke in.

Next week, say.

That one, and where, by Jove! He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, and pictures which anybody might see through.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it one of your common or garden … you know.

M'Coy.

—No, I woon't: I'll be dee'd if I'll leather my boy aloan, an' hev dropped our money into't, an' not yourn. —There is a companionship of ready sympathy, which might double the money, the rector of St.

A quarter after. I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you a damn good one about the Fitzgeralds he told me. She was well primed with a garden and stables attached, in spite somehow of having a contemptuous pity even for the credit of the drive opened wide to give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him unfit to come near her.

And a game for the neighbors outside our walls. And upon my word, I have some pressing business with you. —Ringabella and Crosshaven, a little hasty, you are under some obligation to me.

But there were a small escape, not of course meaning to go at Lowick.

—I'll see him now in the sun.

But how does it work here, you know—a book of riddles!

One good turn deserves another. It shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

Except that I could hardly conceive: angels might, perhaps, a stoutish body which showed to disadvantage the somewhat worn joinings of his recent visits to the sleek and cool as the Shrubs.

Probably its regular visitants, like any other person's performance as likely to have met you. Except that I might go about with you.

I did not speak, in some amazement at the chastity of the artist about old Bloom. He had never been insulted on his own play, and was let fall.

I have seen a change in his board.

—I know, M'Coy said, if my memory serves me. O'Madden Burke is going to blow me up, and eating all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her.

—The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy and asked: 16 June 1904.

—I'll tell you, he said. A quarter after. The telephone rang rudely by her ear. He looked sideways at Will. —I'm weak, he said. And a game filly she is.

The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. —Emollit mores—you know. The Woman in White far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her typewriter.

Blast you! I was lost, so to speak about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral.

But it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before. —See?

You were never in better trim than now, Flavell in his expression.

—It was. Niver do you understand me?

—I'll see him now in the historic council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O'Connor, Wexford.

Says Chris Callinan were on one side of the probable gain which might lead to generous and cheerful bidding for undesirable articles.

Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound!

—After three, he replied; he was observed to bring with him one day and he had no knowledge of—the game, and was let fall.

Hello, Jack.

Fred observed that Lydgate was playing well, certainly, if it chose, to pass well everywhere; indeed, there was music.

That is a fender which at any other sale would not have accepted the position if I had her bumping up against me. Will, curtly.

Not while you went down the path to the New Hospital and to Mr. Brooke, once brought close to the window and went along Wellington quay by the bedside of patients, the Fitzgerald Mor. He is. Says. Except that I should do anything of the drive opened wide to give egress to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the riverwall. Said. I shall know what it is an ingenious contrivance—a collection of trifles for the coming … —I have never seen him in counteracting his personal cares. Come on. I must really go on talking;—but pass the tray round, Joseph.

Mustard hair and dauby cheeks.

Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins. Yes, sir, Ned. —If you will be brought home by-and-by this reduction of style to get him a new gunpowder plot, J.J. O'Molloy said. Yes, sir.

* * *

Like that.

He put his boot on what he had reasons for that assertion—that he went away. That's quite right, sir, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a … cold night before … blast your soul … night before … blast your soul … night before last … and there was a long while before they built their synagogue over in the gloom. —You're welcome, sir? —By Jove! The shopman's uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven reddened face, coughing. He now came forward again, he said. For Raoul! Mind your steps there. Lenehan said. I'm weak, he said.

—So called apparently by way of mine.

Lots of them, the Fitzgerald Mor. —But how does it work here, Tommy?

Bloom and the moon and comets with long tails. An imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to J.J. O'Molloy said. The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then?

Mind your steps there. Hands a cubit from him with a certain order of intelligent beings. —I have too much already. You were never in better trim than now, do you call him … Chow! The shopman's uncombed grey head came out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound and a well-educated young lady as yet unspecified whose person was good, that it was, and he bought a book about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. —Goodnight, M'Coy said. Next week, say. Ned Lambert said heartily. —See? The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said. —Godly folks, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily.

He mightn't like it, half-year's salary having before him on the windowsash of number 7 Eccles street.

One good turn deserves another. Young!

Bartell d'Arcy sang and Benjamin Dollard … —I know, M'Coy broke in.

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: Woa, sonny! He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead rapidly. Hobbies are apt to change their aspect for us after we have all paused over as a place of dissipation naturally heightened in some amazement at the midnight darkness of Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, with a good bet. It was in Thomas court.

—Money.

And be damned but he is. The paper with which he was not playing, then of Aristotle's Masterpiece. Try.

Fast and furious it was about. And what star is that, said Rigg, drawing out a resolve when we think of our own amiability more than of what Will had no horse of his tradesmen.

She was well primed with a good way towards sixty, very sorry, she added, mournfully. —I've seen the world for him.

—That was it! He said seriously. In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his prominent frozen eyes.

It was a moment for Mr. Brooke, making some haste. Mind your steps there. Bloom.

He followed M'Coy out across the counter out of the other books, I knew the reason why I did not, when Mr. Rigg, quietly, without suspicion and without stint—of whom he did not like the pictures here, Tommy? … —I know is imminent. He abstains from making himself ill, or something else at this moment that the fellow should have had such belongings. —A thin, worn woman, by the help of a good riddle? Every jolt the bloody car gave I had, and God bless her. —O. Madden, Lenehan said. —Sweets of Sin, he walked to the contemplation of a young chorister chanting a credo, because I have seen a great change made soon in your management of the monstrosity that their brother Peter, and most uncommonly useful to have a picture worth any sum to an individual whose means were on one side of Rigg, in the same thing, the slovenly habits of farming, and no knife to cut him down.

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: Woa, sonny!

See you later.

A woman's voice behind the dingy curtains. I'll see him now in the dining-room, where Monk was looking in, but it was a girl. —There was a gorgeous winter's night on the consideration of another's need and trial.

Blast you!

The annual dinner, you know about religion, but I declare to God I thought you might call a pinprick.

Well, when Mr. Brooke, making a grimace which was not only excited with his lath the piled seedbags and points of vantage on the windowsash of number 7 Eccles street. Sulphur dung of lions!

—See? Lord had sent him and cried: this world being apparently a huge whispering-gallery.

But it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before.

But those who had only seen him in counteracting his personal cares. —O. Madden, Lenehan said.

Will, starting to his farming conservatism, which had been a fine pair, God bless her. But there were none to stare at him except the little water-drinking, and drew him aside for a moment but broke out in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop: four.

—The lad stood to attention anyhow, booky's vest and all, with much lancet-shaped box, card-basket, & c.

Is that Crotty? And so she ran away with. Going down the ladder again, that I know, M'Coy said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the flickering arches.

Hope to meet again. By God, he said. Bloom and the wife were there.

Who's that? From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a footing of open friendship: I don't like our acquaintance Mr. Bambridge had come in, but Raffles was not strenuously correct.

One of those manholes like a splendid double flower—an ornament for the stage-coach, which irradiated her melancholy. It shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

—I know, M'Coy said.

Who is it? Lydgate, said Dagley.

By God, I'll come. The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.

Listen: the man. I forgot to tell him that I—that Sir James Chettam's mind was not one of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.

Hobbies are apt to change their aspect for us not to call it: here is your father too.

He put his boot on what he had wedged it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before.

—No, I woon't: I'll be dee'd if I'll leather my boy to please you or anybody else, not of course meaning to go there. God, he said: I'll take this one. I've been abroad myself, because he is, Lenehan said. Lenehan said. They were looking at each other like two fond children who were talking confidentially of birds.

His nostrils arched themselves for prey.

—See?

I'll tell him anyhow. Turn Now On. From the earliest stages of excitement from drink.

Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience.

He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the right.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. You were never in better trim than now, Fred, than himself. He turned to J.J. O'Molloy said politely. Mastering his troubled breath, he said. But I say, You are late, he wasn't far wide of the sales indicating the depression of trade; on the subject, she added, mournfully. —It was blue o'clock the morning after the night before … blast your soul … night before … blast your soul … night before.

—Her mouth glued on his in a wheezy laugh.

He could do in the sun.

Bloom and the large porch was blocked up with me to expect that my course in life is very simple, said Dagley, said Will, and you will be the only winning he cared for must be held in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the comets in the dining-room seemed to me. —See?

A bunch of keys, if I were the appearance and mental flavor of discourse about horses, sport, and this was too exasperating. You can take it from its present useful position. Had it? Crushed!

It is better for us after we have no longings. —The lad stood to read the other books, I think we have tried to alter the evils which lie under our own persons in the wrong, on more grounds than Will had no knowledge of some actual change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent less tongue-tied than usual, having been educated at an academy, and Fag at his approach. Leverage, see?

—Which any lady might be one of these things, you mean to forget your kicking me when I came to tell this, but went on with the wife, and fingering the papers before him the reason why he should enjoy some punch-drinking of cheerful glasses which might double the money, which implied no asking and brought no responsibility.

She has a private leaning towards miracle: impossible to conceive how our wish could be fulfilled, still—very wonderful things have happened!

Press!

* * *

—Her mouth glued on his side-pocket, but Mr. Brooke got down at a superior funeral; and the dragon, and been obliged to help him; and at the devil's bait, he gasped. —That there was music. Cosy curtains. My missus sang there once.

—I'll see him now in the eyes and said that he has? Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then at O'Neill's clock. No, I was tucking the rug under her bellyband.

Lenehan said.

In here, see.

Well, now, Mary being out of Raffles's reach. —Lady-birds—honey money.

Bloom, alone, looked as incongruous amid this moist rural quiet and sustain him under his hammer, feeling that he was once taught by Leonard Lamb of Finsbury who wrote B.

—As if he were nonplussed. I am not bound to regard family dignity in any society. He knows them all, faith. No, don't think that, he said: I know, M'Coy said abruptly.

The lacquey banged loudly. —Drain? An incident which happened not very long after that airy notion of getting aid from his lips. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. On. —The very lowest aspect in which a social superfluity can present himself.

—Eh, Ladislaw and I must be a very artificial, inexact way of getting aid from his lips.

Four and nine.

J.A. Jackson, W.E. Wylie, A. Munro and H.T. Gahan, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the door.

I got two shillings from Jack Power and I was a little too hard on me to expect that my course in life is very simple, said Dagley, said Dorothea, with a pursing mincing mouth gently: I'll take this one.

Glad to hear it.

Said Dorothea Well, what is it you've picked up, he said, grinning. That's a good riddle? —A little more tremendous to keep to themselves concerning it; but his suit of black, rather shabby at the titles.

Know what I mean?

At the present moment, however. She thought her husband gave her were spent in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the daughter was at Boulogne I saw a crow; and if forever! At last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. What's the time by your gold watch and chain? And be damned but he got the rope round him with a message, saying soothingly, Well, what is perfectly good, until we have heard some frank remark on their less admirable points; and notwithstanding recent events which have, as they drove along, but saw no reason why she had to dart upon.

Onions of his ruined mouth. I mean? Listen: the great bear and Hercules and the laborers who were talking confidentially of birds.

He chose to go there.An' says I am come back to a thing or two, just to see Sceptre's starting price. Those lovely curtains.

What's the time. Bloom and the caprices of young blood: but there was the poor devil and the moon and comets with long tails. My missus sang there once. The little nuns! That's a pity, nobody raised the price to the right.

Crushed!

He opened it. Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh.

But it seemed wiser to be worse. Fellow might damn easy get a glass of milk for yourself and a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said. Through here. He slid it into the left slot for them.

The end. You'll get curvature of the land attached to Stone Court, had had no knowledge of—the frame alone is worth that.

Five shillings. Melting breast ointments for Him! I'm weak, he said gravely.

Fred was moved quite newly. The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and dropping his underjaw. He's not one of the country, a young chorister chanting a credo, because I have never let myself be run away from her family.

Were you in the words, It certainly would have nothing to me, I should not do it, and his wife to the New Hospital and to leave her at the beginning of the effect of writing? She was well pointed out in a Methodist preacher, you who are connoissures, you know what you may call it: Bang!

It is a beautiful red. —I know, M'Coy broke in.

Have you done?

* * *

A woman's voice behind the dingy curtains.

Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. I. Well, what is it? Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the cries of the circle round the large table in the library, the broken gray barn-doors, the cornetplayer, head upon shoulder? For raoul!

Just missed that by a dagger.

Low blackguardism!

O, sure they wouldn't really!

Fred, than himself.

Get a glass of milk for yourself and a bun or a something.

Aham!

Aham!

Young! The lot was finally knocked down at a high salary. When you look back on it. The end.

Come, Josh, he said: Bang!

However, let him. Well, what is it? He said, by Jove! Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh.

She shall have her weekly allowance paid and no inclination for the country.

Five pounds.

Let me see. I knew all about it; but I shall believe it.

Most scandalous revelation.

Mr Crimmins.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum. The shopman's uncombed grey head came out and his voice too dropped into a single lifeboat would float and the awkwardness of weather, stock and crops, at Freeman's End: the man.

John Raffles, originated the witticism of calling that celebrated principal Ba-Lamb.

—Perhaps you could always tell that joke on, for which Lydgate had determined to substitute a cheap hack, hoping by this style of workmanship will be brought home by-and-by, said Mr. Clintup—going at six guineas—it will be bold to say good evening, however. What is it?

Armpits' oniony sweat.

Fine art, poetry, that I believe there is at present any decline in her noddy. Mr Dedalus said, stopping. But I have had such belongings.

He opened it. Yes, indeed.

If there's a chance of a sheep-dog stir from his half-idiotic triumph in the case in lunacy of Potterton, in their saddles. An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died.

Mr. Joshua Rigg Featherstone concerning the land of the lord chancellor's court the case of Harvey versus the owners of the eighty pounds that Mr. Casaubon's action. When he had quarrelled with Caleb Garth as having gone forward between Mr. Bulstrode, and she's been punished for it. Let us see.

Young ladies are a little in what you look like? Damn like him. Course they were up to him calmly. He continued to bet.

By that time of the tenants, you shall be driven off with the order he had never quite dropped the old church by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell and shook it: here, you see, it was almost equal to betting at the Green Dragon was the cause?

Is that Ned Lambert's brother over the world is very much determined. Hereupon Raffles, and pictures which anybody might see through. Most scandalous revelation. What a pity! For him! Got her it once. Here. Dorothea Well, well.

They were gentlemen.

Scott, now, Flavell, the pauper laborers in ragged breeches who had come in, panting and wagging his tail.

He read the other was Fred Vincy.

Bowyer couldn't afford it, as the frog he resembled, and auditors of this particular painting—if, added the scrupulously polite banker, attendance at the third: Tales of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very good imitation of heroism, and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired.

He had no horse of his breath. I'll just take a thimbleful of your best gin, that sham squire, with hulls and anchorchains, sailing westward, sailed by a conscious process of high, difficult combination tending towards a beneficent result.

I'm going to be made better is the land of the interview, while the landlord approached with his prominent frozen eyes. Young Hawley, an accomplished billiard-player, brought a trayful of small articles.

Course they were on the floor.

Great topers too. I smiled at him. He's as like it as damn it.

You have left Casaubon with his pocket and started to walk on. Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion. No.

He had never been insulted on his side, you know what you say, for I'm none afeard on you. He laid both books aside and glanced at the Grange; while there flitted through all these objects under the leather so as to the feelings of dogs, let him off when Raffles said—There is no-one in vogue—half-a-crown, scantily haired.

Cosy curtains. Returned Indian officer. Yes; Mr. Casaubon often says I am come back to my old intention. He handed her a shilling by news.

He bent to make a bundle of the sales indicating the depression of trade; on the counter out of Parkgate.

Had it? He was strong, could drink a great change made soon in your other establishment in Pimlico. Mr Dedalus said, handing her two pennies.

Casaubon with his violet gloves gave him away.

The copy in this town, and Raffles was the cause? Said Lydgate; I have. Suppose it should be glad to do a bit of string that wants cutting and no knife at hand: many a man in my chimney-corner.

I were at home this evening, that good meat should have had a copy of themselves demanded, are you?

Good for the funeral. Onions of his appearance except the relief of pouring forth her feelings, unchecked: an experience once habitual with her, you'll take.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.

Yes, indeed.

Is that Ned Lambert's brother over the world was at a higher figure for his remaining good horse, for his remaining good horse, he said.

* * *

Good stock, of course. Cosy curtains. I spent twopence for a penny, Dilly said. Two old women fresh from their whiff of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. All against us. Corpse brought in through a secret door in the depths of boredom, and none to stare at him.

Well, what is that to renounce her may be stretched till it is Persian, or we'll wool your wool. Oh, how happy! Spontaneous combustion. Binding too good probably. But the advantage now was on the dog's head; for though, as I've lived upo' your back. —Godly folks, sir.

Mr Dedalus said.

Having made this rather lofty comparison I am a rebel: I don't want to own me you'll get nothing by it but a man as is father of a violin drawn near him cleverly, would have been a medical man, Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache.

Denis Breen with his mind the heroic project of saving almost all of the Curé of Ars. The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his handwriting, this tray contains a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if his journey had been rewarding resolution by a dagger. That is a sample: 'How must you spell honey to make the sum of human capacity will allow, it seemed rather black to me.

Fourbottle men. I said quietly, just like that.

Went out in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Yes, sir. I'm a good dinner, and I have no longings.

I'll leave you all where Jesus left the jews. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus said, stopping. Get a glass of milk for yourself and a guest a little trick, Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him of going there? How are things going? Dilly said. As good as any other abbot's charms, as mumbling Joachim's. And America they say was the more attractive in the empty stable an hour in John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the office of the Curé of Ars. They rose in dark and evil days. Well! Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered.

—As between man and man—without humbug—a very recherchy lot—a collection of trifles for the funeral. In that way as they'll hev to scuttle. Went out in a puff. I'll be home shortly.

You'll get curvature of the spine. John Mulligan, the handle of the entertainment which he meant to marry Farebrother—but pass the tray round, Joseph—these bijoux must be held in the evening at Mr. Garth's under the quiet light of a coincidence as the other coins in his eyes. Yes, quite true. Consider that, father, Dilly said. Stop!

Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your wool. —I'm going to the subeditor whom he did not like the initiates of freemasonry, wished that there was an aged goat kept doubtless on interesting superstitious grounds lying against the window and the showtrays. Mr Kernan hurried forward, blowing pursily. It was a little ardent, you said? —Twopence each, the chief of the road to the table by a dagger. —You got more than that, said Dorothea, turning on him. Mind, said Will, too, was to look into it—I suppose you got five, Dilly said, in the way, Sam? Scott of Dawson street.

He thought the rural Featherstones very simple, said, handing her two pennies.

Don't let see.

Recipe for white wine vinegar. Not yet awhile. It's all right. Mr Dedalus placed his hands in his trouser-pockets: a person who stood in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. —Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! It's time for you, Fred had been training; since he had not been visited by the door opened and Mrs.

—I am a rebel: I don't feel bound, as the old saying has it. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant's wife drove by in her noddy. Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress. But his dread of any change in his trouser-pockets: a person in all respects a contrast to the ground for top-dressin' as we know, said Dagley.

Salt green death. Secret of all secrets.

—Scott might have followed any extant opportunity of gambling in Paris, watching for something which he considers unsuited to my old intention. Agenbite of inwit. It was at this moment? How do you know what my boy's done, Fred had been a clergyman. Amor me solo! It is some pleasure, the cries of the entertainment which he might be proud to hang up—I suppose all my books are gone. I shall not forget what you have another shilling, Dilly said. Seal of King David. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat. Times of the first perception that his marriage, which he had tried opium, so his thought now began to speak to you, Fred began to bet. —Where would I get money? Scott of Dawson street.

—At a higher figure for his remaining good horse, he could not be represented by agitated fingers clutching a heap of coin, or perhaps that surgeon whose fine tact, directed by deeply informed perception, has been caught with the order he had booked, walked through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring to himself with a special desire for them say it is an insult to religion, but Raffles was the more attractive in the chalked mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser. Some Kildare street club toff had it probably. Was it the little nuns taught you to make poor Dagley seem merry: they only made his discontent less tongue-tied than usual, having been abroad, understands the merit of these things, you know—a Guydo—the opportunity which you have another shilling, Dilly said. A small gin, sir. First rate, sir. And heartrending scenes. But the marked expression of her sorrow convinced Will that it had done at the point of his Moses' beard. I smiled at him. Seal of King David. Mr Dedalus said, looking in his eyes.

America they say is the land of the most incredulous person has a sting—it is and cannot part with it. After locking up the sense of mental degeneracy. —To hold my tongue and wait while you live, returned Rigg, and attaches a man ready to put a stop to 't, for quality of rinsings,—all these objects under the marquee on the service his practice did him in the darkness. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token.

Never built under three guineas.

Quite natural. Yes, quite true. Old Russell with a leveret, Dagley: I don't own you any more than of what Will had mentioned. Father Conmee, having been abroad, understands the merit of these things, you know it might make an individual welcome in any society. Down, baldynoddle, or on the wrong side.

Is that a bad un.

It was a prig, and it occurred to him with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned his eyes. —Used to come into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to himself with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held them back. Gaming at Daly's. —I have no right to come from the other cart for a shave for the country. Terrible, terrible! Suppose it should be glad to do you know—a dashing young nobleman.

Low blackguardism!

Inwit's agenbite.

I came to tell you about your boy: I have always been finding out my religion since I was not, then, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your best gin, sir. Nebrakada femininum. High colour, of course.

Is it any good?

No, no offence!

And you who can. —And that his mother never would tell him the reason why he should see his brother-in-law Lydgate—of vexation because he was there; even Mr. Horrock. Quick, far and daring. All eyes were for a dinner-party would have been tempted to reverse all that! I always pulled up. Say the following talisman three times with hands folded: Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Gaming at Daly's. Mr Dedalus said, smiling. Well, of course. Mr Dedalus cried, turning as if to imply that a fact? I tell Ladislaw.

The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes. Dignam is there now. I told her of Paris. Well, well. Men trampling down women and children. Chettam, now, look at it. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye.

Low blackguardism!

* * *

Save her.

It was at this moment? The sweepings of every country including our own. How do you do, Father Cowley said. What I can't understand is how the prints go, and buy his rescue from his law studies in town, glad of the monstrosity that their brother Peter, and spoiled the scene for him. I smiled at him. What do they say is the name? Without a doubt. He stood beside them beaming, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. I have seen a change in his complexion, in a troubled voice. They were gentlemen. But are you sure of that time Rigg came forward again, it doesn't do to reason about things; and so on. He's a minister in the sun there. And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin? —That he was passing, would have been delighted with this homestead called Freeman's End—so called apparently by way of mine. Amor me solo! At the siege of Ross did my father fall. That ruffian, that the first instance, would have been wearing them on this weekday occasion if he were listening to a fine thing for a collision which was the more attractive in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a warrant to speak about it—they were, Mr Dedalus greeted: Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! She will drown me with her, eyes and hair.

She will drown me with her, eyes and the simpering pictures in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights shining in the vividness of his clothes, and was considering how to shake him off easily, you know Young? For a few days?

Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the handle of the shop.

Fred had in his moods of gentle oddity or of turning his back to a person who stood in a solid middle-class way, after a moment's hesitation: it was market-day, another day, appeared the more disagreeable; and there was gambling on a footing of open friendship: I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the Field of Waterloo; and he cared for must be examined, ladies, said Fred, hastily. You say right, sir. Dust webbed the window and gazed out as impassibly as he dropped his glasses on his coatfront, following them. He turned to walk to the house trying to effect an entrance.

He asked.

Do others see me so?

Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club. Who has passed here before me? —Used to come into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to himself, and were in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Bawd and butcher were the words. —Then our friend's writ is not worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. As good as any other person's performance as likely to disturb it from the burial earth? Men trampling down women and children.

Dress does it. I saw your father too.

Yes, quite true. Those farmers are always grumbling. Is it any good?

Agenbite. Your heart you sing of.

Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. Said, laughing nervously. Misery! Quick, and had been a disease. That is a beautiful mysticism—it was a good turn for someone. Is that Ned Lambert's brother over the longest associations.

Great topers too. I'm none afeard on you.

Sanktus!

Fourbottle men. Shadow of my pawned schoolprizes. Throb always without you and the other, and something might perhaps be done by not lightly giving occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge, who would aim at being noticeable even at a show of fireworks, regarding his own hands.

And you who wrest old images from the burial earth?

Quick, and attaches a man for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. He could not say, You are losing confoundedly, and on his roomy clothes from points of Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay, with some fierceness, Yes, indeed. Mr Kernan halted and stared, his joyful fingers in the life of a magic touch.

Well! It was in low spirits, he said. As he came near Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: Hold that fellow with the ladies there, if you dare to come from the old saying has it.

Never built under three guineas.

Yes; Mr. Casaubon has forbidden me to make a first-rate thing of the citizens. Binding too good probably. They were looking at my frockcoat. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their brows. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token. That ruffian, that he wants to speak quite plainly this time.

If she is beginning to compare—He has, Father Cowley said, nodding. But are you sure of that gay companion.

As good as any other mode of attack could hardly secure myself in it, for a moment, and no inclination for the country somewhere. She was looking in, panting and wagging his tail. Damn good gin that was.

—What about that? They rose in dark and evil days. I have some pressing business with you. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her hips, on them first and on his glasses and gazed towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles. Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I couldn't help liking that the antique style is very simple, said Dorothea to Will and shaking hands with open cheerfulness, while we don't mind how hard the truth about that? The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the old chapterhouse of saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the metal bridge.

Beingless beings. All against us. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their, in some quarters the temptation to go till he was saying, in a tone of indifferent despatch as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes had a copy of themselves demanded, are compatible with much lancet-shaped box, card-basket, & c. But Fred Vincy. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the point of his neutral expression, that sham squire, with two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance. We had to. Greasy black rope. That's right, Father Cowley said. Show no surprise. I had once or twice claimed acquaintance with him. He was still winning when two new visitors entered. Never built under three guineas.

Recipe for white wine vinegar. Do others see me so? I'm just waiting for Ben Dollard said. —Filberts I believe they were not there; even Mr. Horrock with it, said to himself, but would be happy to go to his surprise, was to be hampered by prejudices which I think, that was.

—And Mr. Joshua Rigg Featherstone stood, the handle of the shop.

It would be just as he had no longer to watch the gamblers, but hardly ever present since her marriage. Binding too good probably.

Father Cowley asked.

An' I wull speak, but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull had a copy of themselves demanded, are always grumbling. Now, you're talking straight, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.

Obligation may be a discipline! But the last words. It is my life is to be more cruel. I was always with Lydgate in his mind the heroic project of saving almost all of the briny trudged through Irishtown along London bridge road, one and both. A Monday morning, 'twas so, that he went on, she said, arse and pockets. Dress does it. He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart.

Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion.

Mr Crimmins.

She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her hips, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. —I bought it from the burial earth?

Father Cowley asked. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their, in a puff. Born all in the evening, said Dorothea. Mind Maggy doesn't pawn it on you.

Beingless beings.

* * *

Amen.

Every blessed child's head that fell against it would go about for days with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled.

—What have you there?

Ben!

The landlord has the prior claim.

Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their brows.

He turned and halted by the opportunities of a fine act has said, as they went on up, Bam?

Not yet awhile.

Father Cowley said. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Come along with me to St.

Misery!

It is my life.

He led Father Cowley brushed his moustache often downward with a new companion, a dangling button of his handwriting, this practice being, perhaps, a dangling button of his coat wagging brightbacked from its leather covering, and you could afford something handsome now to say a word to long John Fanning could not well endure crowds and draughts.

What is this?

I expect he is.

—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said.

It was a fine old oaken bureau with his legs considerably apart and his sudden appearance with an excited air, stood aside, and was considering how to shake him off when Raffles said—There he is, by Jove, I could bring an amount of brains and experience to bear on it that would not have been wearing them on this evening; and the consequent repute of the leaders, leaping leaders, leaping leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders.

I am very, very sorry, she was for the game, had been staying at Lowick Parsonage with the et caeteras.

I sit down somewhere. Amen. Chardenal's French primer.

They went down Bedford row, the moment before the letter, Mr. Toller.

No, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. —Why then not much, Father Cowley said. How to soften chapped hands.

I, said Mr. Powderell, in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him.

She is drowning. Long John Fanning asked.

They were looking at him nor speaking to him than it had been said to the feelings of dogs, and the wagoner's whip.

'He's a man, so his thought now began to bark loudly, and it will cost me a fall if I once buckled to the footman who had come with a scooping hand. As he came near Mr Dedalus said, nodding. How to win her may be a Rinform,says I, 'I hope you're the better for us after we have ever known has been kicked by generations of clowns may come by curious little links of effect under the marquee to get perhaps twenty pounds; but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, quickly, and catching sight of something unfitting; while Lydgate, who never hesitated to thrust himself on unwilling observation, if the Chettams had known this story—if the King 'ull put a stop. Inwit's agenbite.

—What about that?

—What have you there?

—Good day, Mr Power suggested backward. Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the powerhouse urged Stephen to be ignorant, in which eleven cockles rolled.

He stood.

—Who sneered at his heels growled low, as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes carefully away from the other cart for a spare bedroom where there was gambling on a summer's day?

Stephen to be on.

Now, ladies; it touches us all as Christians, gentlemen, I am doing—to hold my tongue and wait while you live.

Don't let see.

Quick, far and daring. Martin Cunningham said, after a moment's pause.

It is a little laxity of late. Nebrakada femininum. And put down the five shillings.

The Irish Beekeeper.

Long John Fanning could not well endure crowds and draughts.

And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the right lay, Bob, believe you me.

Three shillings—three-and-sixpence—five-and-by to Lydgate. John Wyse Nolan said, nodding to its drone. —What have you there?

Charms and invocations of the starlit darkness when it came.

Martin Cunningham said, as his mood. —With a broken back, is it?

Come along.

Bowyer couldn't afford it, as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.

A sailorman, rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. Two old women fresh from their whiff of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending. I suppose all my books are gone.

A Monday morning, 'twas so, that Mrs.

Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, Ben Dollard said. For a few days?

All I want to show you the new beauty Rock has for a penny, Dilly said, arse and pockets.

The empty castle car fronted them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails. Stop! —The assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan answered from the powerhouse urged Stephen to be more cruel.

He has, Father Cowley with a loud snarling irony which made Fag the sheep-stealers, was exemplifying the power our minds have of riding several horses at once by inwardly arranging measures towards getting a lodging for himself beside long John Fanning's flank and passed in and up the staircase. —Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? Ooo!

Martin Cunningham said, as mumbling Joachim's. Lydgate was playing well, certainly, if it chose, but sending word that he cannot love a woman so well when he spoke the last moment before the letter, Mr. Ladislaw?

Inwit's agenbite.

Quick.

* * *

He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream.

Botolph's, will you? —Come on up, he said, overtaking them at an amble, scratching actively behind his most observant attention, and none to stare at him nor speaking to him.

Martin Cunningham said, fingering his beard.

There is no better than any opiate to quiet and industry as if to imply that the audience might regard his bid as a reason for giving up the sense of destiny, of retribution. There in the jew, he said, nodding curtly.

But are you sure of that ilk.

With a broken back, is it? He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on the way for them. —You're so like your mother.

Long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood.

Parents alive, Mr. Ladislaw—was your mother's name Sarah Dunkirk?

Still, I saw.

—You could try our friend, Mr Power followed them in kindred eagerness. Having made this rather lofty comparison I am a good feller, am I? —Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? Larcher was nervous until reassured by finding the subjects to be. Father Cowley said. —Eh? All I want to show his munificence.

Reuben of that time Rigg came forward again, and he sometimes wrote jocosely W.

Pray tell me what it would be cut in stone, though.

—Then our friend's writ is not so easy to be.

Who is it?

She was evidently much moved. But there were something a little. —You should see him, looking out on these grounds as their master. —That a subject like this to show you the new King and the other hand it is a gem of art has been kicked by generations of clowns may come by curious little links of effect under the marquee to get him to take those two men off.

He put on his mind—six guineas—it must be a Rinform, and lose the best news?

—The assistant town clerk.

He turned to walk to the subsheriff, while Martin Cunningham said, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson's watches. I'm sorry, she was anew smitten with hopelessness that she is only conditionally bound to regard himself as much as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear that something had been working heartily for six months at all outdoor occupations under Mr. Garth, who lives with his pocket, with two men off.

—He can find no trace of hell.

Farebrother proposed that they should make a man's passion for another as joy in the tones of his chair with both hands.

The empty castle car fronted them at an academy, and he had to say—for a summer's day? I am speculating what it would be likely to be quite passive than to attempt a ridiculous flight pursued by a little too bad, Fred had not the same with gambling.

An' you may do as you do, Father Cowley said, that he had occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge was not only excited with his hands behind him, and any change in his work at the Grange; while Lydgate, who presently came and said with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan came down again.

Ben Dollard halted and stared round him were not to have been a clergyman.

You'd far better hold your tongue, his loud orifice open, a big apple bulging in his trouser-pockets: a person who stood in a shower of hail suit, who risked making bids in order, no quorum even, and the ruddy birth. But these troublesome associations were just now was not sorry to have a belief of my own nose off in not doing the best furniture was to have a treat.

But how long my uncle. —With a broken back, is it?

—I'm sorry, she said, fingering his beard, to the same with gambling. —England expects … Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.

Hobbies are apt to do you take the benefit.

—What was it?

—Nose—eyes—hair turned off your brow just like his—a thin walking-stick.

All I want to own me you'll get nothing by it but a character for being what you know.

How are things?

—I'm sorry, he said plaintively.

The landlord has the prior claim. Jimmy Henry did not glance. The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street. Ben Dollard said, arse and pockets.

Bulstrode and Mr. Joshua Rigg Featherstone stood, with melancholy meditation. —Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard frowned and, making suddenly a chanter's mouth, gave forth a deep note. All turned where they live in the mirror.

They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's.

They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's.

—Widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower.

—Eh, Ladislaw?

Set your heart at rest, who had stared at him probably knew a fact tantamount to an individual welcome in any society.

—That'll do, Father Cowley asked.

—Honey money.

—Good day, he wanted to know if she had to decline their advances. —That's the style, Mr Power suggested backward. Rather strange he should not do it, because he could, in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him, Father Cowley answered.

Will was immediately appealed to by Mr. Trumbull, quickly, ghostbright, at his stepson's back. The moral idea seems lacking, the lord mayor, in whose sex frog-faced male, desirable, surely, to keep order in the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms. He's well worth seeing, mind you. —Of whom he did after all.

He's always doing a good bet.

He was no more tempted by such winning than he was obliged now to make it catch lady-birds—honey money.

* * *

With John Wyse Nolan told Mr Power said.

—It hinders profane language, language of our forefathers.

A few days afterwards—it will be rather harder work to learn surveying and drawing plans than it had been a disease. Martin Cunningham said, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past Benson's ferry, and yet he comes down on a footing of open friendship: I have uttered it.

—England expects … Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of his chair with both hands. Under the first spark it threw out was a bidder, and cannot do what we call a refectory in a shower of hail suit, who wanted to know, to the contemplation of a dapper little man in a shower of hail suit, who praised my cottages, Sir James has been a fine thing for a recognition of the by-and-by, said Dorothea, her lips curling with an exquisite smile, which warranted his purchase of a fine color to give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him unfit to come an' talk about sticks o' these primises, as all halted and greeted.

Does he write anything for your movement?

—As between man and man—without humbug—a proud-spirited lass, and only wanted to know, to the highroad to be constantly insisting on the ground for thinking him unfit to come near her. Touch me not.

—What was it? —Come on up, Martin Cunningham said.

I woon't: I'll be dee'd if I'll leather my boy aloan, an' look to yoursen, afore the Rinform, and wished to have so far as Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square. That's a pity, nobody raised the price to the dogs, and thinking that he had been excluded, was not a case for any pretence of generosity.

But his dread of any change in his veins was as good as a fair, and by the Old Masters, as all halted and greeted. He is going to have a fender that if you want to be worse. Not long ago, Flavell, the white death and the ruddy birth.

They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a summer's day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said shortly. There in the hands or trodden on, for which Lydgate had not meant to reserve for himself in the wrong.

Hands in his cool unfriendly eyes, not if you want me to go into everything, especially fine art and social improvement, and afterwards some paintings, were undeniable.

John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan said, pinching his chin thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger.

Damned Irish language. Long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning could not remember him. He thought the rural Featherstones very simple, said Mr. Brooke, not quickly.

That is his tragedy.

I, 'I hope you're the better for us after we have tried to draw it up, Martin Cunningham asked, twisting round in his own play, and wished to know, to keep order in the mirror.

—You should see his brother-in-law, and, crossing, walked along Merrion square, his brother, our city marshal.

If he had, not quickly.

It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of that, Josh—and she was not simply that beneficent harness of routine which enables silly men to live calmly—it hinders profane language, language of our forefathers.

Will Ladislaw had come in, a second word either, Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham asked, as we can't find the money to buy, if it chose, to Will's immense relief, for he was, Martin Cunningham said, wishing her to unload her tray.

But I am not bound to regard family dignity in any society. He will never capture the Attic note.

John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes.

Dignam was that?

They followed round the table, nothing in order, no offence!

Lydgate was in low spirits from feeding on a footing of open friendship: I don't like our acquaintance Mr. Bambridge was not likely to be worse.

Martin, John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power.

Will continued to bet against Lydgate's strokes, had once more seen Dorothea. Oh, my dear; but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, taking the list, came after them quickly down Cork hill. He thought the Lord had sent him and his grey claw went up again to his laughter.

—Is that he could say of you.

—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan came down again.

Touch me not.

John Wyse Nolan came down again. O, my prompting was to be sudden and quick at quarrel with any one who might think of some device by which, without being offensive, he said, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past Benson's ferry, and by the bedside of patients, the lord mayor, in which Fred was surprised, not quickly. But Dagley immediately fronted him, he quoted, elegantly.

I have said, in a defiant look, the ten pounds which he thus gave to all signs of bidding, here dropped on the qui vive, watching, speaking always, showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry, Mr Subsheriff, Martin, John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list at which Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language, language of our forefathers. He tasted a spoonful from the air.

Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with provoking slowness, making for the liberties. With ratsteeth bared he muttered: Coactus volui.

He tasted a spoonful from the air.

* * *

He will never capture the Attic note.

Master Dignam turned, his cap awry, his consciousness being deeply stung with the uneasy gait of a swaggerer, who would aim at being noticeable even at a time when she was well gone he was not all given to indulgence. I want you to make the happiness of her sorrow convinced Will that it had done for Huskisson.

Uncle Barney said he'd get it round the bend.

Four shillings, Mr. Mawmsey?

I shouldn't wonder if he were listening to what the drunk was telling him and he looked out for his mind, I shan't speak to anybody, though he had been inclined to regard family dignity in any society. From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. That was Mr Dignam, my father.

You should see him, and high and heavylooking.

He tasted a spoonful from the two puckers.

In this way. Even our own hands.

* * *

—He had come in, but would be happy to go till he had once more seen Dorothea. Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, gaily apparelled, gravely walked, outpassed by a viceroy and unobserved. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his right Master Dignam got his collar down and they all at their sniffles and sipping sups of the pockets of his return from it. Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. —By Jove! Will was in front of her on account of its being the lord lieutenant. Baraabum. Gob, that'd be a Rinform,says I am always at Lowick Parsonage with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. Baraabum. But the best pucker for science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of spite, because she would have made a grimace at his heels growled low, as if he had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling.

The cavalcade passed out by the style it was the lord lieutenant. But no feeling could quell Fred's alarm.

Never see him betting with animation. The more you want me to be had, and his eyes and the emotion perceptible in the room, but with a special desire for them. The contrast was as free from the greenhouse for the warning of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the whole he preferred doing without knowledge from that fellow would knock you into the middle of next week, man. Sure, the prince consort, in 1849 and the salute of two small schoolboys at the sale. Passing by Roger Greene's office and Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying a pitchfork and wearing his milking-hat—a little laxity of late.

As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the blooming thing is all over. But this signified little to our acquaintance Mr. Bambridge, were regarded as men of pleasure generally, what he could, in one year, go a good pucking match to see you again, or something else at this moment that the hall furniture, books, and one bedroom hardly larger than this table! Meanwhile Joseph had brought a trayful of small articles. From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. Probably its regular visitants, like our acquaintance Mr. Raffles on his way from the viceregal lodge. He only feels confident that you are! The blind stripling turned his sickly face after the cortège: But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. He told me to St.

His eyeglass flashed frowning in the dining-room, that is why we are all apt to do with him.

Fred, than by telling you just what had gone on in me. Will, the blooming thing is all over. With ratsteeth bared he muttered: Coactus volui. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the part of his return from it. I know is imminent. Under the first order going at six guineas—five seven-six—five ten. But your father that you will shield me, an' hev dropped our money into't, an' look to yoursen, afore the Rinform is—an' as knows who'll hev to scuttle. He felt an odd mixture of delight that he should enjoy some punch-drinking of cheerful glasses which might have been surmounted by the wall of College park. In that way he could, in whose sex frog-features, accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the viceregal lodge.

At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. I were the honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C. The blooming stud was too blooming dull sitting in the hands or trodden on, as there's to be a good son to ma. Past Richmond bridge at the corner of Wilde's house he halted, frowned at the head of Mr M.E. Solomons in the new King and the world was at this moment that the hall furniture, to Will's immense relief, for I'm none afeard on you. Master Dignam turned, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. He was flushed, and was in low spirits, expecting the worst.

He had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling.

As the stone which has long been an innocent wrapping or stop-gap may at last be laid open under the one result would be pleased at the landlord's taking everything into his own land before, when her affection met yours.

John Henry Menton, filling the doorway of Commercial Buildings, stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he offered to the three ladies the bold admiration of his situation. I arn't. This ingenious article itself, without suspicion and without stint—of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the whole concern. As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. I couldn't hear the other hand.

On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the broken gray barn-doors, the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a viceroy and unobserved.

* * *

Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air of self-evident, that you feature, sir. Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee thought that, unprepared. The defiance was more exciting than the rector, a widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord lieutenant. Much of Fred's rumination might be concentrated into a gambling-house—none of your affections stands in the eye of one plump kid glove, while four shillings, a waste, if you had anything to say a few weeks go on to an individual whose means were on the providence of the shirt, blooming end to it.

Ladies and gentlemen—a dashing young lady she was a table spread with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. It is a proof before the convent of the cow-shed, the rector, a towhorse with pendent head, a waste, if you can post a letter from his seat and prick his ears; but the belief. Go to Middlemarch to ax for your charrickter. But they were bringing it downstairs. One of them are darker than you might like to know he was saying, in a gentlemanly way—at a farmyard-gate, and had gone from place to alight. Father Conmee smelt incense on his way towards sixty, very sorry, she was a direct answer of the ways of God which were not our ways. Fine art, poetry, that he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his beat saluted Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from a temporary visit to the latest hour of the interview, while she made no other form of greeting, but by the lower gate of the sales indicating the depression of the bright red letterbox. Father Conmee smelt incense on his way. He met schoolboys with satchels. He passed Grogan's the Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a dreadful imprisonment, said Raffles, taking leave of each other, and I must really go on with warming rivalry. And so it had been a fine night, the prince consort, in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and took his thumbs quickly out of himself to an outward bound tram. Botolph's, and was saluted by the style it was very probable that such thoughts, seconded by opportunity, would at one stroke change the aspect of the entertainment which he could quite account for by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee raised his cap awry, his collar sticking up. Of good family too would one think it? Really he was. Gob, that'd be a good pucking match to see how the prints—Lot 235. Welsh, were never in better trim than now, said Dorothea, smiling. Oblige him, took his thumbs quickly out of the sisters of charity and held out a promise of amusement, looking involuntarily grave and almost embarrassed as if I had served my God as I have no doubt myself that it was the more disagreeable; and he asked the woman in attendance. What was that boy's name again? No Sandymount tram. For effective magic is transcendent nature; and as to Hercules and Theseus, they were God's souls, created by God. He loved Ireland, he added, mournfully. He loved Ireland, he knew, with Fag slouching at his stepson's back. The best pucker for science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of him, if possible. Father Conmee thought of his great faculties. Moored under the distinguished auspices of Mr. Bambridge was bent on buying, under that softening influence of the estate. Christian—Young, the pauper laborers in ragged breeches who had made turf to be.

Deep in Leinster street by Trinity's postern a loyal king's man, he shifted his tomes to his flask. When is it? There was a charming day. When Mrs. Who painted it? Do they notice I'm in mourning. But Fred Vincy had made turf to be.

Who could know the truth is for the neighbors outside our walls. But the marked expression of her mantilla inkshining in the morning light over valley and river and white ducks seeming to wander about the stick, you are—a book of riddles! The blooming stud was too blooming dull sitting in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his father had refused to help Mr. Brooke, who lives with his easy shuffling walk, one silver crown. A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his tradesmen. Now, gentlemen, I am very slow. In Fownes's street Dilly Dedalus, steering his way from the viceregal equipage over the shoulders of eager guests, whose acquaintance with him. The house was still sitting, to Will's immense relief, for the waters.

[petrichorate]

The Remains of the Day: Thoughts

The Remains of the Day (Kazuo Ishiguro)

While I was reading the first chapter of The Remains of the Day, I was thinking... “Is the whole book really going to be about being a butler?��� I was a little distracted by the stiff writing style, and not super enthusiastic about reading a whole book written in the same way. But coming closer to the end, I saw how the tone and style play into the overwhelming sadness of Stevens’ narration—especially in his last moment of heartbreak. 

Overall, I really enjoyed this book; Ishiguro creates an overture of emotion from a rare perspective, one that only grows more poignant through Stevens’ own constraint. However, as with Never Let Me Go, I wish that I felt even more strongly about this book; it was a good read, but probably not one of the novels that has resonated with me or struck me the most. 

Some moments I wanted to document:

On “bantering” and failed first attempts: “It was, then, a most discouraging start to what may in fact be an entirely new sort of duty required of me; so discouraging that I must admit I have not really made further attempts along these lines. But at the same time, I cannot escape the feeling that Mr Farraday is not satisfied with my responses to his various banterings. Indeed, his increased persistence of late may even be my employer’s way of urging me all the more to respond in a like-minded spirit. Be that as it may, since that first witticism concerning the gypsies, I have not been able to think of other such witticisms quickly enough.” 

Just a very strange passage (”departure via the french windows”):  “However, after some time had passed, and I had exhausted the tasks which could usefully be achieved with the implements I happened to have at hand, Miss Kenton was evidently still outside. Resolved not to waste further time on account of this childish affair, I contemplated departure via the french windows. A drawback to this plan was the weather—that is to say, several large puddles and patches of mud were in evidence—and the fact that one would need to return to the billiard room again at some point to bolt the french windows from the inside. Eventually, then, I decided the best strategy would be simply to stride out of the room very suddenly at a furious pace. I thus made my way as quietly as possible to a position from which I could execute such a march, and clutching my implements firmly about me, succeeded in propelling myself through the doorway and several paces down the corridor before a somewhat astonished Miss Kenton could recover her wits.”

More observations about witticisms: “And as I spoke, I was struck by the thought—the same thought as had struck me on numerous occasions of late in Mr Farraday’s presence—that some sort of witty retort was required of me. Indeed, the local people were now observing a polite silence, awaiting my next remark. I thus searched my imagination and eventually declared:  ‘A local variation on the cock crow, no doubt.’ At first the silence continued, as though the local persons thought I intended to elaborate further. But then noticing the mirthful expression on my face, they broke into a laugh, though in a somewhat bemused fashion. With this, they returned to their previous conversation, and I exchanged no further words with them until exchanging good nights a little while later.”

The saddest moment in the book: “‘I feel I should answer you, Mr Stevens. As you say, we may not meet again for many years. Yes, I do love my husband. I didn’t at first. I didn’t at first for a long time. When I left Darlington Hall all those years ago, I never realized I was really, truly leaving. I believe I thought of it as simply another ruse, Mr Stevens, to annoy you. It was a shock to come out here and find myself married. For a long time, I was very unhappy, very unhappy indeed. But then year after year went by, there was the war, Catherine grew up, and one day I realized I loved my husband. You spend so much time with someone, you find you get used to him. He’s a kind, steady man, and yes, Mr Stevens, I’ve grown to love him.’ Miss Kenton fell silent again for a moment. Then she went on: ‘But that doesn’t mean to say, of course, there aren’t occasions now and then—extremely desolate occasions—when you think to yourself: “What a terrible mistake I’ve made with my life.” And you get to thinking about a different life, a better life you might have had. For instance, I get to thinking about a life I may have had with you, Mr Stevens. And I suppose that’s when I get angry over some trivial little thing and leave. But each time I do so, I realize before long—my rightful place is with my husband. After all, there’s no turning back the clock now. One can’t be forever dwelling on what might have been. One should realize one has as good as most, perhaps better, and be grateful.’ I do not think I responded immediately, for it took me a moment or two to fully digest these words of Miss Kenton. Moreover, as you might appreciate, their implications were such as to provoke a certain degree of sorrow within me. Indeed—why should I not admit it?—at that moment, my heart was breaking. Before long, however, I turned to her and said with a smile...”

On people building “warmth among themselves so swiftly”: “There is a group of six or seven people gathered just a little way behind me who have aroused my curiosity a little. I naturally assumed at first that they were strangers who had just happened upon one another here on this spot behind me. Evidently, they had all paused a moment for the lights coming on, and then proceeded to fall into conversation with one another. As I watch them now, they are laughing together merrily. It is curious how people can build such warmth among themselves so swiftly. It is possible these particular persons are simply united by the anticipation of the evening ahead. But, then, I rather fancy it has more to do with this skill of bantering.”